


dreaming of you

by bonjourmags



Category: SKAM (France), WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonjourmags/pseuds/bonjourmags
Summary: "Do you realize that sometimes, you speak in dutch? Just a word or two, or a small sentence." She had told him before leaving him alone in the bathroom."But I don't know dutch."-Sander was born in Paris. His life is boring like everyone else’s, but he dreams of a mysterious boy who talks to him in a language he doesn’t speak. Sander paints him, over and over, hoping that one day one of his drawings will come to life. It surely doesn’t help that some of his dreams seem directly cut out of his new friends’ lives, Eliott and Lucas.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant, Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 69
Kudos: 334





	1. tunnel of love

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to camille for running to my brother's apartment to binge watch wtfock with me, for beta-ing this fic and support me in my stupid ideas  
> sorry for any mistakes in dutch. i'm a bad belgian person and haven't used it in years. if anyone wants to correct my mistakes, feel free to drop a comment.

Somedays Sander doesn't want to remember his face. 

He kept asking himself if you could call it a memory, even, because he never saw him with his own eyes. When he closed them, letting himself into Morpheus' arms and slept, he would see him - as if he was a favorite, a creation that his brain liked more than his other dreams. Maybe because he was the absolute product of everything he liked in strangers; the soft brown eyes, falling almost, granting him of a sad face (Sander liked sad faces, they were way more poetic that way), thin lips and dimples just next to them whenever he smiled, brown hair going in every direction, because it couldn't be tamed. 

He didn't appear everytime he was asleep - if that had happened, maybe Sander would've liked to stay in his dreams and just never do anything with his own life, just enjoying being in bed and let his unconscious mind lead what he could and should live while asleep. Somehow, he's grateful that the boy of his - and in his - dreams isn't always there. That way, him appearing is a surprise. And nothing can trigger a dream with him (because, yes, he tried: everything from this Navy technique to fall asleep in two minutes, drinking milk before bed, writing down his dreams so he could control them better) and, with time, Sander realized it was for the best. 

The dreams started when he was thirteen, he thought, unsure. He can't exactly remember because it wasn't an utter revelation, and he wouldn't be able to explain what happened in those first dreams. It was a dream like another one. Probably some really domestic parts of a life he didn't live with a boy who didn't exist, in places he never visited. 

It wasn't weird for him, he was quite happy that his brain had created a friend for him to meet in his dreams. He never truly got to have a first meeting with him, never shook his hand saying, "Hi, I'm Sander," because the dreams were like old parts of a memory he didn't experience: pieces of this and that, sometimes in the same room, sometimes in an art studio, sometimes in a café. 

He would kill to know the actual taste of one of those drinks he saw himself order, to live his dreams in real life.

He was fifteen when he had his first wet dreams about the boy. He started asking questions about what was going on with him and accepted his sexuality quite fast. He was happy to figure it out this quickly, not hating himself in the process of it, and felt bad for anyone who did. 

Concerning his mental health problems, that was something else. 

At some point, he wondered if the boy in his dreams was the reason his brain acted like this, then realized that his brain acting that way was probably the reason he even saw that boy. He tried to see the pretty in what was so wrong to society's eyes: he started, thanks to his first girlfriend Britt, art therapy. Dark words and dark thoughts were poetic, if you followed after Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verlaine. He was bad at it, being only sixteen, but he kept writing and mostly drawing. He wasn't the best in maths or sciences, but he quickly became the favorite in art, because his hands could draw like someone who had lived more than once. "I can't remember who said it. I think a french writer, or maybe someone from England? Anyway, it was something along the lines of, if an artist isn't hurt he can't make art, to get to the maple syrup the tree has to be wounded." Sander laughed at Britt's remark, unsure if those were real words or not, but it was one of those moments in life that he kept thinking about afterwards.

They weren't dating anymore: she had said that she had fell in love with some boy who was a barista at a café she liked to go to, and that she wanted to try something else one her life, be free for once. Sander knew that it was only partially true, and that he had been too harsh on her when his mind wasn't in the best place. He knew that he had taken her for granted for too long and that she needed someone who would care for her as much as she would care for them. "I haven't been the best boyfriend for a long time." He had told her, five months after they had split up, and she had tried to shush him, in vain, because he was right. "No, but you've been a great friend for many years." She added, and Sander agreed. They were kindred souls, not especially romantically, but they went well together nonetheless.

Appart from her, his art, and the boy who didn't exist that he was seeing in his dreams a four to five times a year, his life was pretty dull. He spent a lot of time inside, listening to Bowie, Prince, Elton John and argued with strangers on Twitter that, yes, Hot Space is the best album made by Queen (not only because Under Pressure was on it, but because the overall disco vibe was an artwork in itself, and the cover was damn cool, too). His Twitter was a safe place for him, he started posting some of his drawings, his ideas, and grew a bit of following: not that much, but he was semi-famous in the classic-rock french community. 

Britt started to hang out more, because her new boyfriends loved to show her their friends (and, very probably, show off a little, because Britt was extremely pretty). It had started small, but Sander would get impacting sentences from her, that all sounded like, you're so interesting and smart and handsome, how come I'm your only friend, and that you've never dated anyone but me? 

He was lazy. That was it.

What surprised him was how his new friends made their way into his life: surprisingly, very easy. First day of University, as he was waiting in line to order a pizza slice from one of the student restaurants, the guy in front of him turned around, pouting. Sander's eyebrow lift up directly because it's rare to see someone looking like that everyday. "There's no more pizza, ça craint." He said, looking at Sander. "Wanna come with me and grab pizza at the station and split the price?" He asked him, as his hands searched for the laces of his hoodie. Sander had opened his mouth once or twice before saying anything, thinking of what else he could eat, before accepting the offer in the idea of making a new friend. "Sure." 

Eliott, that was his name, had taken the habit to touch Sander a lot. He wasn't used to this kind of friendships. Yes, Britt and he touched, but only when they were dating. Becoming friends had been a journey, and they tried to exclude intimacy into it, on her demand. So having Eliott all over him was weird, his arm over his shoulders when they were walking, hitting him kindly whenever he made a joke that he truly liked, rested his head on Sander's lap when they were listening to music in Sander's dorm ("And you call this a dorm?" Had said Eliott, "Yes, Paris is fucking expensive, you know it. My parents aren't rich and I'm not selling foot pics to get more money." He answered, extracting another laugh from Eliott, "I'll ask my boyfriend if he wants some, maybe Lucas is interested in that business!").

Eliott made him meet others: first Lucas, his boyfriend, who was small as heck next to Eliott. Lucas made a Danny Phantom joke about Sander which earned him an instant friendship bracelet, but mostly agreed to say that Eliott had the worst taste when it came to music. Then Imane, who was a ray of sunshine only wearing black clothes, Daphné and Alexia who would sometimes slip a remark in the conversation regarding his looks. ("But like, he's hot hot, right?" Alexia said, "Yes, and you're dating dating me, uh?" Answered Arthur as a joke). 

Arthur was probably the one who liked Sander the less: he had no idea why, but when it came to talking, they didn't get along that much. Thinking about it, maybe it was just that Arthur had a lot going on with his health problems, trying to adapt and adding a new character into his group of friends wasn't the easiest way to make him comfortable. 

Yann, Basile and Emma were chill with him, mostly Emma, who decided to invite him at her place and drink a few beers with her (it ended with her, completely wasted, texting some dude called Alex and hushing Sander to leave by the window so he wouldn't see him get out of her apartment, and that truly isn't the easiest thing to do when he's tipsy).

  
  


And Mika, oh, Mika loved him. For some reason.

***

@earthlingoddity: i call this "kissing underwater" [pic attached of a painting]

@even_bn answered: @isakyaki does this remind you of something?

@l_lallemant answered: love this!!!

@peachy_timmy and 243 other people retweeted

***

They were all so nice with him that he ended up living at their places more than in his own, making him forget that Britt had left him alone in Paris to live with her boyfriend in Bordeaux. "It's fine Sander! You'll visit me during the holidays!" She had said, but a month after, Eliott (and, very surprisingly, Arthur) knocked down the door of his dorm to force him to go on a city trip in Brussels. 

"I'm not sure, guys, I have to see Britt. She told me I could visit her in Bordeaux during the holidays." He said, as the two boys took off their shoes to jump in his bed. "Allez, mec, you never went to Brussels, right? Plus it won't be a real vacation without you." Arthur had said, and Sander arched his eyebrow. Maybe he misread how much the group seemed to like him. At first, he thought it was only sympathy for him as he was Eliott's new friend, lost, without anyone. 

"I never visited Bordeaux either." He said, unsure.

"Brussels is gay friendly." Eliott answered out of the blue, as if it was a reason to go. "Like, Paris is okay, but it's better in Brussels. We can find you some cute boy there! You need another muse, Sander. Stop dr-" 

"Or a girl," he whispered. Arthur hit Eliott's shoulder, "What about that insta chick, Joana? She's perfect for him." Eliott furrowed his brows, "Mmh, she's taken I think." 

"I'm still here," he added, laughing quietly. "I'll think about Belgium and I'll tell you when I decide, okay?" Arthur and Eliott looked at each other, "Cool, he's coming. Call Lucas, and tell him that we need a large apartment, because we'll be, like, a thousand." Arthur said as he and Eliott got up, putting their shoes on to leave, "Hey I didn't say yes yet!" He tells them, screaming as they get in the corridor of Sander's dorm. Before the door is closed, Eliott turns around, "When are you coming to the art studio? Lucas said that it was weird to spend more than a week without hearing you blast Bowie in our apartment. I think it’s his way to say he got used to having you around." 

Sander licked his lips. "Sometimes it feels like you glued me to a group of friends I didn't deserve and shouldn't have met." He tells him, "As if I'm supposed to be here." 

He's thankful for this group, of course. He just can't help but feel out of place.

"You have your place and deserve it like everyone else. Friends are like that. Plus I have had enough of being the only one who makes art. They're all science and maths smart. I hate them. I need you for my own sanity." He pauses, "I was wondering, maybe we could start a project together. Art shit." 

Sander smiled. "We could create an exhibition, maybe." He tells him, soft. Eliott seemed way too content with that, so Sander added, "but not until you tell me which animal I am. You never draw me." Sander can hear Arthur's voice in the hall, calling for Eliott, saying something along the lines of, get your ass here you son of a-

"I'll think about it."

Later that evening, as he studies for his exams, Sander gets a text.

_ From: Eliott  _

_ you're an otter I think _

_ To: Eliott _

_ An otter? Interesting _

_ From: Eliott _

_ and he's a baby bear _

_ To: Eliott _

_ Who is? _

_ From: Eliott _

_ ur muse, the guy you keep drawing in the studio _

_ From: Eliott _

_ i knoooow he doesn't exist and he's from ur dreams but he cute  _

_ From: Eliott _

_ if he was a real dude i hope youd score by now lol _

_ To: Eliott  _

_ Me too :( But he's just a brain chemical apparently _

_ From: Eliott _

_ i read an article i forgot to tell u _

_ To Eliott: _

_ You can read? _

_ From: Eliott  _

_ imane read an article and talked abt it to lucas when i was there _

_ From: Eliott _

_ anyways. it says that your brain isn't cool enough to create faces. it has to be someone you met before in the street _

_ From: Eliott _

_ ur boy is out there _

_ From: Lucas _

_ My boyfriend is annoying you I can sense it from his smirk. I'm telling him to stop it so you can both study. Sorry for the dumbass _

_ To: Lucas _

_ how do you cope with having that annoying dude as a boyfriend _

_ From: Lucas _

_ Lots of prescription drugs.  _

  
  


***

  
  


A few days later, after booking a place to stay in Brussels and buying bus tickets, Sander had found himself in his and Eliott's art studio (well, technically it was Lucas and Eliott's, but Lucas never used it and only entered to watch Eliott draw, bringing the boys coffee like he was a housewife, and look closely at the new artworks. Sander was practically sure that the two of them already had sex in there, but as long as it didn't happen when he was around and that no bodies touch one of his paintings, it was chill for him. Their house, their rules.

  
  


He had been dreaming of him once more. He didn't exactly count how many weeks were between each of his dreams of the boy, but he knew that before the one that had happened yesterday, a few months went by without any sign of his favorite dream. They talked for a while, and Sander couldn't say a thing but he knew that the conversation was going both ways, he just couldn't control it. Only pieces of what was said was still in his mind, something about Leonardo Di Caprio, and universes. What stayed more when his dreams were over was him, and what he looked like, how it felt when he touched the back of his head to play with Sander's hair. How slander his hand was, how their noses were touching slightly.

The door was open. Sander knew that Eliott used to close it when he was working in the art studio, but since it wasn't his place when he was painting alone he preferred to leave it open so Lucas or Eliott wanted to enter there was no need to knock. Eliott was probably asleep, or in the kitchen (if Lucas had let him) and Lucas was in the bureau working. Science stuff, he said. 

"Hey." A quiet voice said, not to Sander, but to Lucas, as it was Eliott saying goodmorning in another room. A kiss. "Hey, baby, slept well? It's ten, so you know." Eliott cleared his throat, "Yes. I'm getting better at not sleeping until two. Sander got here yet?" Silence, for a few seconds. Maybe Lucas is just watching Eliott. He does that, sometimes. "Yes, he's in the art studio." Sander can hear a chair being left alone and footsteps leading to the kitchen. A few minutes after, the two lovebirds are in the art studio next to him, giving him some coffee. Eliott is still in his pjs, hair going in every direction, even more than Lucas' infernal thing that he dares to call his hairstyle. He says thanks to Lucas as he takes the cup in his hands. He knows he'll probably put paint on it, if not now from his hands, later from all of the brushes around him. Lucas never seemed to mind that from him, or Eliott.

"What's with all the fabric?" The taller one asks as he looks at some of the material that Sander left next to his new painting, "Paris Fashion week got to your head and you're becoming a designer?" He adds, a smile on his lips as the joke wins a laugh from his boyfriend. 

"Oh no, it's not that." He answered, "I'd be a really shitty designer." 

Lucas moves his head. "All you ever wear is eboy clothing and band t-shirts." Sander laughs. He wondered if he should tell the real thing or if Eliott was asking to be polite. Then he realizes that both of them are his friends and that they probably care about what he does with his art.

"I, uhm, had another dream," he said, knowing that Eliott told his dream story to Lucas. Eliott told everything to Lucas. 

"Oh." The small boy says, simply. "You didn't tell me when we talked this morning." 

Sander shrugs. "It's kind of blurry, for the moment. It will be even blurrier in the future, but I don't have much to say about it." Lucas smiles, as he tries to understand.

There was something about him. Eliott was an artist, so whatever Sander was drawing Eliott would get it and encourage him in his projects. Lucas, on the other hand, was not a creative person, and yet, his love for Eliott seemed to cross the borders of only loving Eliott for who he is, but also for what he does and what he likes. When he met Sander, for the first time, he seemed very happy to finally know the face of his boyfriend's new friend, and since then he always tried to get the message behind Sander's artworks. He had no idea if it was to please him, to please Eliott, or simply because he was slowly, but surely, liking art more and more.

"The most important thing to me, after I have these dreams, is how they make me feel." He continues, "They're otherworldly. The guy in them - no one ever loved me that way, not Britt, surely not myself. There's something in his eyes, and even if they're brown and everyone says it's dull, it's a brown that only belongs to him. Because of the way his eyes express feelings. He can't hide shit." 

"What if the boy is you?" Lucas said, as Eliott hugged him from behind, "What if it's you but different. What if it's yourself loving yourself. Because in the end, everything he tells you, you tend to think them too." Sander licked his lips.

"Yeah, misschien." He answered.

"What?"

"I said, yeah, maybe." Sander said, putting his head in his hands. "Anyway. He said something last night. Something about universes." He turns to look at the painting. It's yellow fabric from a curtain he found in the morning market next to the boy's apartment, that he placed in a way he could paint on it, and he added the face of the boy from his dreams on it. It is not done, he's sure of it, but at least he's trying. "He said something about universes, that maybe in another we'd have yellow curtains. So I bought this yellow fabric and made this with it."

  
  


Eliott and Lucas are silent.

"He said that maybe in another universe you'd have yellow curtains?" Lucas asked in a weird voice.

"Yes." 

The three of them are silent now. Until Lucas hits Eliott's shoulder. "Very funny, now the joke can stop." Eliott doesn't react as if there was a joke, and instead, looks at Lucas weirdly. He whispered something in his ear and rested his hand over Lucas’ head, holding him kindly. Sander felt out of place. He knew the two of them were together for almost a year now, but they still seemed to love each other as they did the first day. Sander never had Lucas’ part of the story, but Eliott’s, who had told him everything one evening as they were in Sander’s dorm, lazily lying on the bed. He knew how much Eliott loved Lucas and how their relationship wasn’t the best everyday, but they still made it work. 

Sander and Eliott were a lot like each other, he remarked. Maybe that was the reason why they got along so quickly, two pieces of the same puzzle. 

“You told him?” Lucas said, not angry, just weirded out. Eliott told him what? “I mean, it’s fine, if you did.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eliott answered, quickly, as if he was ready for the question to be asked. “It came from him and only him.” He added, eyes mysterious. Sander hated when he did that, because it meant that his friend wouldn’t explain himself and just hide whatever his thoughts are. 

Lucas cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, Sander, you must be really really confused right now,” He told him, moving forward to the painting, “It’s really pretty and it seems very meaningful. I really like it. C’est chanmé.” Sander laughed, as Lucas stayed a few seconds in front of his artwork, admiring what had come out of Sander’s hands and mind. “If you don’t mind, I’d even like to buy it, when I have some money.” 

***

@earthlingoddity: here's a drawing my friend made of me. he said i was an otter [pic attached]

@pxrfectharold answered: like sherlock!!! it's cute but when are we getting a face reveal?

@thegoldfimch answered: oh!!! what's ur friend's @??? 

***

_ From: Lucas _

_ Hey! Sorry for the other day. A while ago I told Eliott that I liked the idea of multiple universes and that in one of them we’d have yellow curtains. Just hit me when you talked about this and I thought that you guys were playing with me.  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ It’s fine dw! I just didn’t get what was going on lol  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Weird how did I dream of the exact same sentences  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Maybe I’m one of your other universes who knows _

_ From Lucas: _

_ If you are, I hope you’re me and not Eliott because we know which one of us is best.  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ I’m screenshotting this  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ I think I’m more Eliott  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ There are some things in which we’re very… the same  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ I don’t think I really need to tell you but yeah  _

_ From: Lucas _

_ If you need me the door is always open.  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Ah dw  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ But thanks! Means a lot _

_ From: Lucas _

_ Want to come over? I’m watching Bohemian Rhapsody with the girls tonight. _

_ To: Lucas _

_ No boys? Eliott?  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ You’re trying to attract me with rock music _

_ From: Lucas  _

_ Eliott and Yann are going to a dubstep concert. I love them both but not that much. I can go to french techno concerts but dubstep? Count me out.  _

_ From: Lucas _

_ Musically you truly are the best version of Eliott, let’s admit it.  _

***

"Do you think you love him?" Lucas said, as he was watching Sander draw. For once, they weren't at the boys' apartment, but in Sander's dorm. Lucas started to pass by, sometimes, when Eliott wasn't feeling so well and asked for some time alone. Sander had found it quite surprising, at first, because Lucas had so many friends that he could see. It made him feel appreciated, loved, even. 

It wasn't only his relationship with Lucas that got better: Alexia and he started to bond over their hair choices and once a month she helped him dye his hair white. ("You did that to look like Jack Frost?" She had said, "Ah, no, Bowie." He would tell her, "You truly are obsessed.") 

  
  


"Love who?" He wondered, thinking of who he had shared his mouth with in the last parties with Lucas and the others, well, they had a frat party a few days ago but he ended up kissing a girl, so not a him. 

"The guy from your dreams." 

"Oh." He licked his lips, "If I was, that would be very sad, I think." He answered. Lucas seemed to think about his words, in a very un-Lucas way to do. 

"I know we joked about it, but, putain, when you dreamed of that yellow curtains conversation I was scared," he started to explain, "as if you proving one of my theories was true was a bad thing. Because it could be, like, real. And it's weird, I don't think there's anyway you could be Eliott or, uhm, I don't know. I'm confused." He paused, "I sometimes wonder if these dreams are like, this parallel universe I was talking about, or if it's just the memories of a life you're missing out. Maybe you made a choice that you shouldn't have done in the past and you're stuck in a reality that's not yours." 

Sander can't answer, because it's so weird to hear Lucas talk that way. He wondered if that is how he communicates with Eliott, if deep down the funny character that Lucas presents to everyone there's someone really thoughtful and romantically poetic. 

"But I have all of you now," he said, " and that is worth a ton of bad decisions without Robbe." 

"Robbe? That's his name?" He said, smiling. 

"Yeah, I think so."

"You never told me that," Lucas pointed out, not as a mean remark, but as a simple fact.

"I never told anyone that." 

***

@earthlingoddity: maybe he's right and you're living your life somewhere without me, holding someone else in your arms

@artsysander answered: damn bro thats deep

@pxrfectharold answered: who hurt you

***

Sander was a bit drunk (okay, maybe a lot) at Daphné's party, but everyone else was too. Eliott and Lucas were nowhere to be found so he tried to look for them when he encountered a crying Emma in the bathroom. 

"Errr, you're okay?" He asked her, before cringing because no, you don't cry your eyes out when you're okay. "I, mean, sorry. Let me start again, what's going on?" He knew he wasn't the best to console her, any of the girls could do a better job at putting a smile on her face right now. Basile, even, would be better at it. 

"Alex, the dude I sleep with, he just got a girlfriend." She told him, wiping her eyes, her eye-makeup going everywhere. "And I thought it wouldn't matter because we don't really have anything to talk about, y'know, it's just about the sex and it's really great that way. But it annoys me, now he's taken and I don't have anyone left." 

He sat next to her, in the small space that was between the bathtub and the toilet. She was sitting on it, a bit above him. "It's like, I don't even know how people flirt anymore and I'm scared I'm not sexy or pretty." She let out a small laugh. "Ugh it's so stupid." 

"Oh, don't worry, I think about that too. What if I'm not pretty anymore." He told her, to lift her up. "Joke aside, I think everyone gets insecure like that once in a while." He's not lying. When he's down, his romantical life (and sexual, maybe?) is a big issue. He's afraid that no one will ever love him the way Britt did, or the way the boy from his dreams does. It's been a while since he had anyone to cuddle with, well, since Britt, he had no one. He kissed, sometimes had sex with strangers he met at parties, but nothing meaningful. He knows Emma's problem isn't romantic like his, but he still relates to it.

"Yeah, like you have to think about finding someone. You're like, a ten."

He laughed. "You're a ten too when you don't have your makeup all over your face”, he said, licking his finger to take off some of the excess. And then, tension.

"You really think I'm a ten?" She asked, her voice low. 

"Uh, je bent meer dan een tien." He said, and she looked at him weirdly, as if his words were out of space. Without even noticing it, they're kissing and he doesn't know if he's the one who started it or if it was her. He doesn't really care because her lips are soft and he tries to be gentle but he knows that it's not what she's waiting for.

They're still kissing each other when the door was opened by a very, very drunk Alexia. "Holy fuuuuuck, that's so weird." Sander had stopped kissing Emma to turn around, "DAPHNÉ ! Sander kissed someone from the girls group and it's not you or me!" 

Emma laughed and had even left a smile on her face afterwards. "It was very funny, but I'm not doing that again," she had said to Sander, who was still looking at her from below. "Thanks, you changed my mind." 

  
  


She had left him after that, and he thought to himself that this was a weird party and that, life in itself, was weird.

"Do you realize that sometimes, you speak in dutch?" She had told him before leaving him alone in the bathroom.

"But I don't know dutch." 

***

_ @joananoexiste send you a text: Hi. I just wanted to tell you that your artwork called kissing underwater is crazy. do you think i could replicate it with girls instead of boys? my girlfriend and i had an experience like it and i would love to give her a painting like it as a birthday present _

@ _ earthlingoddity: I don't feel too comfortable having someone replicate my art, but since you won't sell it and that it's very personal to your own experience, why not. Send me a pic of the finished piece _

***

_ To: Lucas _

_ I'm not in love with him  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ But I think I would like to _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Not especially him, but falling in love looks like it would feel great _

_ From: Lucas _

_ Trust me, it does. _

_ From: Lucas  _

_ YOU SHOULD DOWNLOAD TINDER LOL OR GRINDR _

_ From: Lucas _

_ GET THAT D SANDER, YOU CANT WRITE SANDER WITHOUT A D _

_ From: Lucas _

_ Sorry, Basile and Arthur took my phone.  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Funny how y'all seem to only remember my attraction to boys _

_ From: Lucas _

_ LMAOOOO NO WE ALL REMEMBR THAT U SHARED TONGUE WITH EMMA _

_ From: Lucas _

_ He's right. _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Errrrr, it's not happening anyway _

_ From: Lucas _

_ THANK GOD there's too many couples in our group, ur literally the ONLY one who didnt date someone from the group -B _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Dw my dick isn't going anywhere _

_ From: Lucas _

_ y are u talking abt ur dick to my bf _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Why is everyone texting me with Lucas' phone except Lucas _

_ To: Lucas _

_ Why are you guys all together and not telling me to come _

_ From: Lucas _

_ If u want a threesome ask me first  _

_ To: Lucas _

_ OH GOD NO _

_ From: Lucas _

_ Lucas here. Please don't agree to Eliott's idea. If you want a threesome, ask Basile and Daphné. _

_ From: Lucas _

_ Also, we're at Yann's, you can come if you want. Bring some salad. _

_ *** _

It had been a while without any dreams, but Sander didn't mind. Quality over quantity, as they said. 

That, until the night before their departure to Brussels. 

They were in a bar, but he's not completely sure: he was so focused on the boy that he didn't really care about where he was. He had a beer in his hand, he knew for sure, and the other hand was above his, on the table. They were close, but it seemed to never be enough, and whenever they spoke to each other it was only in whispers, it was all mouth and breathing in the other's ear, gentle kisses placed on the other boys' temple, on his hands, all over his neck. 

When he had woken up, the room felt too empty.

***

@earthlingoddity: last art post for a while, im going to brussels ! this is called yellow curtains [pic attached] 

@thegoldfimch answered: this is it chief, that's my heart you have

@zoeloockx answered: @sterkerdanijzer you should look at this it looks exactly like you

@sterkerdanijzer answered: it does, that's crazy


	2. flickers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! i hope you'll like this. thanks to camille for betaing this and to sarah who made an edit of this fic!!!! please look at it it's wonderful  
> https://www.instagram.com/tv/B78fQIwoeQF/?igshid=1j25cxjbozrch
> 
> if you want to talk to me or have your @ in this fanfic, my Twitter is @thegoldfimch

Sander was adjusting some of his paintings' details. He liked to think that even after he posted them for the world to see he could still alter them to make them more of him, more of his own style. Nothing was ever over, online or not. Lucas and Eliott were there with him, bickering like the old couple they were. Sure, yes, sometimes Sander felt like the third wheel, but he knew when to leave the two of them alone when he sensed that things said shouldn’t be heard by anyone but Lucas and Eliott, and they both tried their best to include Sander in all of their conversations whenever he was with them. They worked well that way.

“So the BOZAR has an exhibition with Keith Haring’s art in it, maybe that’s what you would like to see,” Lucas said as he was hugging Eliott from behind, as his boyfriend was drawing with Sander. “Oh, so you did some research to know what we could do in Brussels, then?” A kiss, from Eliott to Lucas’ cheek, “What a thoughtful boyfriend I have.” Lucas laughed. 

“Well, not exactly. Basile told me that and asked me to get the message through, so the artists could decide if it was worth it or not.” He whispered, loud enough for Sander to hear it. “Oh, oh.” Eliott said, “Well, gimme my kiss back. You don’t deserve it.” He’s breaking from Lucas’ hug but the smile on his face showed that it was only to joke around, “Sander, do you want a kiss? Lucas doesn’t deserve my kisses anymore, I have tons that I have to give out.” Sander laughed. “Ew, no.” he answered, but Eliott comes closer, one of his hands is still holding Lucas’. “Come on, just one kiss on your cheek,” Sander branded a pencil in front of his friends, “Come closer and you’ll become blind. I’m very precise with my hands.” 

“No, I need my eyes to see and paint and if I’m blind how can I make jokes about things going on,” He whined but Lucas talked right after, “Do it, je serai ses yeux si il veut,” he whispered in his ear, and Sander decided that this was the moment he would leave them alone. “Okay, your eyes are safe but you better use them to pack, we’re leaving tonight.” 

“Hm, hm,” he heard behind him as he was walking to the door. 

“Come on, you’re not that busy to just tell me ‘hm, hm’ as an answer? I hate both of you.” He sighed, closing the door behind him. He had already packed, well, it’s not like he had many things with him in his dorm, but he tried to take clothes that he would enjoy to see on future group pictures, hygiene stuff, some pencils and a notebook. It was weird to see that most of what he truly cared about could hold into a small bag. 

@earthlingoddity: i realized that the most important thing i need to pack is myself

@rosandernarry answered: sometimes it seems like you’re a shitpost bot!

***

_ From: Eliott _

_ some of ur twitter followers r hilarous  _

_ From: Eliott _

_ their jokes? can’t get enough. they keep roasting you as they should _

_ To: Eliott _

_ I don’t really look at them _

_ To: Eliott _

_ I use Twitter like we did in 2015, my private journal that strangers can look at when they want to get noisy  _

_ To: Eliott _

_ I do answer my dms tho _

_ From: Eliott _

_ u could be famous and you wouldn’t bat an eye  _

_ To: Eliott _

_ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _

***

“Okay, everyone has their ID card?” Basile asked to the group. Very surprisingly, he was the one who had taken the whole trip into his own hands and made sure everyone had what they needed to have and prepared the places they would visit as tourists. Everyone seemed to agree to Basile’s question and they started to queue up to get into the bus. Sander was seeing what was going to happen: Basile and Arthur would team up, Eliott and Lucas won’t leave their spot to anyone else, Daphné and Alexia will sit next to each other, the last couple, Imane and Sofiane, would do the same, which left him with Yann or Emma. Three people, not a pair, which meant: someone alone. 

“I can sit alone.” He said to Yann, who was just in front of him in the line. “We’re an uneven number.” He added, in case Yann didn’t quite catch what he was talking about. The boy looked around, probably questioning which pairs will go with who, and came to the same conclusion as Sander. “Nah, dude, I’m not sitting next to Emma.” He whispered to him, and Sander blinked, “Why?”, he asked. 

“I know that she’s going to talk about Alex for the whole trip, so I’m out.” He smiled. 

“Oh, I’m not sure she’s going to talk about him.” Sander had said, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder while Yann was watching him closely, “Mh, you’re the new confidant?” He said, a large smile on his lips. “She always does that. She sleeps with you, then you’re the new confidant and she tells you about the guys she wants to screw.” He explained. His tone wasn’t mean - it’s as if Yann was sure that Emma acted that way every time, and maybe she did, Sander had no idea. 

“We never slept together.” He pointed out. 

“Well, you have four hours of bus to change that!” Yann said, punching Sander’s shoulder. 

“Hey! I heard and this is never happening!” Emma shouted from her place in the line. “But Sander, yeah, let’s sit next to each other.” 

Sander laughed, and when it was his turn to sit on the bus, he walked up to Emma’s spot. Yann seemed to have found a place by a window, behind Arthur and Basile’s seats, which wouldn’t be too boring for him. He had taken off his coat, and placed it on his seat, took his notebook and a few pencils before sitting down. Emma was looking at him intensely. 

“Oh no he was right and you’re going to give me all the deets?” She doesn’t answer but gave him a large smile and a nod. 

“So like, there’s this guy…” 

***

@earthlingoddity: sometimes my brain is like a jheronimus bosch painting!!!! 

***

@eartlingoddity: i recall how we lived on the corner of a bed

@earthlingoddity: it was long, long ago, and i can’t touch your name

@srcantswim answered: ok WHO broke sander he’s tweeting bowie lyrics AGAIN

***

They had a week in Brussels, and Basile had sent them a plan with his ideas. After opening the apartment and leaving their bags there, they sat down to discuss what was going to happen: they would go out to eat french fries (“But it’s literally french fries, we have the same in France?” Had said Daphné, “They’re actually belgian and we call them french because the american soldiers got their fries from people talking french!” Imane explained right after), then go back to the apartment and sleep, not too late. 

“But when are we going to party?” Yann asked, taking his shoes off. Sander was really, really tired. The bus trip was long and usually he would sleep his way through them but with Emma next to him, he found himself more interested in her life than going to sleep.

“Well, tomorrow!” Basile answered, “during the day we’ll visit the Grand Place and Manneke piss, ah, you’ll love this one.” He searched in his phone for the plan, “then we’ll eat in the center, visit the Bourse, Sainte Catherine, the Galeries de la Reine and in the evening we’ll go to the Delirium bar and drink a beer or two.” 

“Or twenty!” Imane joked around, rolling her eyes. Sander laughed, sat up and went to the couch, sitting down next to Lucas and Eliott who were cuddling there. He gave a kind smile to Eliott, who was playing with his boyfriend’s hair abstently, then he yawned and rested his eyes for a second.

  
  


***

When Sander opened his eyes, there was something in his hands and something over his mouth. He could try to think of how he got here, what’s in his hands and why his mouth is covered with tissue but he still couldn't figure out what was going on. The more he tries to succeed, the less he does. It’s like he was trying to guess the name of the song he had in mind but it kept disappearing and meaningless sounds were replacing what was important, until the important doesn’t seem as important as it used to be, and the music is forgotten. 

Around him there's nothing, just pitch black, as if he's in a world that doesn't exist yet and is in creation. He feels nauseous, because he can't see what his feet stand on and it's making his brain go nuts. There's a smell all around him, reminding him of things he never experienced. His vision gets worse then it’s better, he’s seeing something - ah yes, this is a camera. He’s holding a camera and he’s taking pictures and in front of him-

Ah. 

So this is a dream, he understands that this is a dream. 

He can only see his back, but something in his guts can just tell that it's him, the boy. The world around him is now created, but he still has no idea of where he was standing. There were trucks everywhere, and people walking fast. He had heard a laugh, next to the boy, so his vision focused on him once again (it was so easy to do so: his dreams were always confused, blurry even, then sometimes he would look at something, a hand, a piece of paper, or him, and it would become crystal clear. Sander heard a click.

There was a girl next to the boy, and she was very pretty. Sander looked at her as much as his mind had permitted him to, but his eyes kept going back to the boy. 

Why couldn't he look somewhere else? 

Her hand is over his shoulder as he seemed to hold a can - oh, that's a spray can, Sander recognized, and maybe that is the smell all around him: spray paint. He doesn't get it, but it makes him feel weird and sick and maybe that's nostalgia? Could you feel nostalgia for something you never lived? Sander wanted to lick his lips, to drink something, to be able to do anything himself but he couldn’t move. 

She’s kissing him softly, and Sander can’t help but look at them. 

He was empty, tired, wanted to go back to a normal sleeping routine. It has been too many years of waiting for a dream of him, waiting for him to show up and leave kisses on his skin, on his knuckles, on his forehead. He pressed the button of the camera and there was a click. His body started to move and when the camera isn’t in front of him, hiding a part of the room to his eyes, he knew that something was up. 

There’s someone in his arms, dancing, and he’s suddenly hearing music going off around him. They’re small, but their hair is blonde and not brown, long and not short, and she’s a girl and not the boy he expected to hold. Lights were everywhere, he felt like the ground wasn’t holding him or anyone else in the room and everything around him is blurry. He knew that there were people next to him, it’s a party, it’s normal, but they keep disappearing and they didn’t feel like they were real. Except her. 

Her eyes are watching him with attention, and the kind smile she gave him told him that she liked him more than you like people you meet at parties and - 

Oh. That’s Britt, actually. 

He can’t exactly remember from which party this memory is from, and blamed it on the fact that he likes to drink way more than he should sometimes. She got closer to him, and he placed his hands on the two sides of her face, unable to really move by himself, and started kissing her. 

What a weird feeling to experience, he thought. 

His eyes were closed for a while, his dream could disappear right there and he wouldn’t mind at all. He wanted to wake up, and go on on his journey in Belgium with his friends. When he opened them again, he tried to look at her as they were kissing but his vision was blurry, once more. He looked somewhere else, and they weren’t alone at the party anymore: in front of him, in a sea of nothing, was the boy, kissing the same girl as before. 

And the boy was watching him. 

He needed some air. Not because kissing Britt was annoying him, but because his brain was fuzzy from all of the different dreams that he was living at the same time. He closed his eyes, waited, then opened them again.

He wasn’t inside the same building anymore and he wasn’t nowhere, in the dark like he was a few minutes ago. He’s standing on a street, outside, walking fast. He has no idea of where he’s going, because he’s not controlling where his body goes to and where his dream wants to lead him. The sun is bright and shines on him. He felt great, as if he was completely free. He can feel his smile on his own face, and when he had looked around he realized why: he was about to see the boy. “Robbe.” He knew it was him, because he could recognize his own voice everywhere, but he can’t control what he had said. He tried to get his attention, touching his shoulder as the boy was going inside a building. 

“Robbe. Hey.” 

The boy stopped in his tracks, turned around. He didn’t smile, like he usually does in Sander’s dreams. Sander’s heart dropped to the ground, heavy. The boy’s eyes aren’t like all the other times they met in Sander’s imagination. There was no spark, no passion, no attention towards Sander at all. The boy is bored, looked like he wanted to go home and leave the conversation he had just started with Sander. His vision focused on the boy’s headphones, still playing music loudly. He can’t figure out what is the music playing. 

“Waarom heb je mij geblokkeerd?”  _ Why did you block me? _

“Laat me met rust, okay?” _ Leave me alone, okay _ ? Ouch. The boy isn’t looking at him directly. His eyes are looking at the ground, his hands, somewhere else, then him. Sander decides to close his own eyes to forget about the brown ones.

When he opened them again, he was still in the same space, but the day was gone and everything was dark. There’s a door made of glass in front of him, and he’s holding it back, so it doesn’t close without him being inside of the building. 

“Robbe.” He said, again, in a different tone that the two first ones. His own voice sounded sad. 

He was close now, way too close to the boy, and yet not close enough. If Sander could move, he would run away or get even closer. The boy was watching him, this time, but his eyes held something else: they were kind, afraid in some way, demanding, loving, quiet. He could look at these eyes and paint them for the rest of his life, he thought, but his vision started to get blurier, and blurier so Sander tried to stare at something else; he realized that the only things that were focused in his dreams were the things this false memory wanted him to look at. The boy’s eyes aren’t clear, but his lips are, so he stared at them, until they seem to fade, so he goes back to his eyes. Then his lips again, eyes, and he stayed there for a second that felt longer, and the boy was looking back at him, brown scanning every part of his face, then set on his eyes, but Sander was looking at his lips.

He got closer.

***

“Holy fuck!” He cried, waking up. His heart was beating fast and so was his breathing.

He was on a couch, still dressed. Eliott was sitting at the end of the couch, with Sander’s feet over his lap. His phone in hand, he was now looking at Sander with curious eyes. Why was he sleeping on the couch and not in his room? Still dressed? What time was it? Why is Eliott there? 

“I told you we should’ve woken him up before.” Sander had heard a voice coming from behind him. Lucas. He turned around and saw his friend in the open kitchen, eating a sandwich. “Yeah, I know, but it’s better for him to sleep.” Eliott answered in a protective way, as if Sander wasn’t in the room. “What happened?” Eliott added, watching him. “You were all moody while you were sleeping. Saw the mec?” 

“Robbe?” Lucas asked.

“Wait, you know his name?” Eliott watched Sander, “Hey, wait, he knows his name? I thought I was your favorite, Sander. I’m hurt.” He laughed. 

“He was there but this time I had so many dreams going one after the other,” he shrugged, “and I was about to kiss him but I woke up.” 

“Ahhhhw, baby got his first wet dream!” Lucas joked around, and Sander arched him an eyebrow. Well, technically this wasn’t a wet dream. 

“Why am I sleeping here and where are the others?” He said, trying to change the subject. He wasn’t annoyed with the two of them, but talking about the boy made him feel like he was crazy, sometimes. Obsessed with someone who didn’t exist. The poor boy who can’t get anyone to share his life because he’s too busy dreaming. 

“They left to eat. You fell asleep during the plan talk yesterday, and everyone agreed to let you sleep here and not move you. I know how grumpy you would’ve been if we did.” Eliott answered as Lucas came closer to them, handing a sandwich to Sander so he could eat something. 

“Thanks! Wanna do croques, though? I mean, you and me, Eliott stays away from the kitchen.” 

They all laughed, and the boy wasn’t on Sander’s mind anymore. 

***

@earthlingoddity: we’re in brussels and i overslept??? but at least we’re eating good croques :) (pic attached)

@pxrfectharold answered: WAIT IS THAT A FACE REVEAL

@pxrfectharold answered: shit you’re!!!!!!!! very good looking sir 

@thegoldfimch answered: jack frost called he wants his fangirls back

@pxrfectharold answered to @thegoldfimch: danny phantom said there’s copyrights on his looks. your looks, sir, hand them over

***

_ From: Emma _

_ where are you?  _

_ From: Daphné _

_ there’s a bowie collection at bershka :) we can go back there together tomorrow if you want to! _

_ To: Daphné  _

_ Yes please :) _

_ From: Basile _

_ PLEASE do not send smileys to my girlfriend she already finds you more attractive than me, just act like a jerk towards her I WON’T BE SINGLE again i LOVE HER _

_ *** _

The second day of the trip was calm: they went to the commercial street and mostly went shopping. Well, the girls plus Sander and Eliott went shopping, while the boys stayed at the multimedia store for hours. 

“No, but what I’m saying is: if you never went to Ikea doing stupid stuff and eating hot dogs with your friends, are they really your friends?” Emma said to the group, to what Daphné answered, “I’m not sure! We’re all friends with Sander and we didn’t go to Ikea with him.” He laughed, because Emma was very clearly saying this as a joke and Daphné was answering seriously.

“Yet,” he told them. He’d like to go to Ikea with them.

They joined Lucas, Yann, Basile, Sofiane and Arthur in the multimedia store. “Okay, who wants to go for a walk and who wants to go home?” Sofiane asked, and Basile lift up his hand. 

“Uh, Basile, we’re not in high school anymore, you can speak.” Arthur said, a smirk on his lips.

“I want to visit! We’re not here to stay inside all day.” He said after mocking Arthur. Imane shrugged, “Actually, I’m very tired and I’d like to just prepare something good for tonight. Sofiane will help.” Sofiane seemed to agree, as he kissed her cheek. “Eliott, you stay out of this, someone help me keep Eliott from the kitchen,” Lucas said, holding his boyfriend in his arms. 

“Ah, ah, ah, the overused Eliott shouldn’t be cooking joke. Please, Lucas, change our dynamic for once.” He told him, pinching his cheek. “Hm, hm.” Lucas hid his face in Eliott’s neck.

“Okay, this love is disgusting,” Sander pointed out, “I’m going with the visiting team.” 

“We are too.” Eliott answered, eyes challenging Sander. 

“Okay so that makes Sander, Eliott, Lucas and me. The two lovebirds are going home and what about the rest? Emma, Yann?”

Emma bit her lower lip. “We bought alcohol and I wanted to get shit-faced before the sun is out.” She had told him, looking at Alexia, who agreed. Arthur looked at his girlfriend then pouted, “If she’s getting shit-faced, I’m getting shit-faced. Sorry mec.” Basile’s smile fell a bit, but not that much, “Yann?” he asked, once more. 

“I’m coming, but can we not walk and do a tour on bikes? There are the uber ones who are so easy to use and it’s way cooler to visit on a bike, we’ll see more stuff that way.” Basile seemed to think, “Sure, why not. Guys? Daphné?” He moved to grab her hand, “Will you be with us for this adventure?” and kissed her knuckles. 

“Yes, sure! Oh, this is going to be funny.” She said, excited. 

Sometimes, Sander wouldn’t understand how she could get so excited about such small things. But then he thought that it’s probably way more interesting to live a life where all of your happy emotions are stronger than any other ones. Lucas and Eliott noded to say that they agreed with Yann.

“Okay, let’s go team home!” Sofiane said, clapping his hands together, “What should we take to go home? Tramway four? If we want to go to Saint Job…” He said as the group was leaving for the tramway stop. Sander couldn’t hear them, and it felt like one of the dreams he had: it’s like life is going on without him and he can’t interact with it. 

“I don’t have an uber account, nor a credit card.” Sander had said to his friends, apologizing, “I can’t take the uber bike.” 

“Ah, fait chier.” Yann had said in a murmur.

“I could share a bike with Lucas and you can use his account for yours?” Eliott offered, and Lucas moved to get away from his boyfriend’s arms, “Hey, hey, hey, let’s calm down a bit, I’m not sharing a bike with you.” He was nice, but the tone of his voice was telling everyone that he wasn’t lying or joking around. “You’re dangerous, Eliott. I’m not sharing a bike with anyone, it’s like, illegal.” 

Eliott shrugged. 

“You’re over dramatic. We do plenty of illegal things everyday. Like, you know, going to the place at night? It’s illegal.” He had said, hiding from the rest of the group what place they were talking about. “And you smoke, Lucas, that’s really illegal.” 

“I’ve been caught trespassing in a private pool once. Had to run to get my clothes and all, naked from head to toe.” Sander said, without thinking. Eyes turned to him. 

“Woah, you did?” Basile asked, suddenly interested. Sander licked his lips. Did it happen or was it one of his old dreams he had started to mix with his everyday life? He couldn’t really remember. “Uh, yeah.” He decided to give a short answer, no more information, in case he was lying without really meaning to lie. 

Lucas seemed to be off for a second, thinking about something that Sander couldn’t know about. 

“You know what? You two get along well. The trespassers can go together on the bike and I’ll enjoy my own bike by myself, happy.” Lucas said, pushing Eliott towards Sander. He looked at him, asking,  _ what does he mean by the trespassers? did you do something dumb? are we more alike than what we already think we are? _

“I don’t mind.” Eliott said, “you?” he looked at Sander. 

“Oh, no, I’m fine with that.” 

They walked a bit to get to a place where there were enough bikes for all of them. Eliott was unlocking it while Sander was trying to understand where he could sit. “Get just behind me, over the wheel protection thingy, yeah, there, look.” He showed him, and Sander knew that he would spend the next hour in pain. 

He was, indeed, right. 

Everytime Eliott would ride over anything: a small branch (why were there so many branches in the middle of a city, Sander wondered, what did he do to deserve so many branches?) or when the pavement would be a bit shaken up, the back of the bike would go nuts. 

“I’m definitely sterile now.” He said as a matter of fact. “This hurts, everything hurts. I have no balls anymore. This bike is destroying all the chances I ever had to be a dad. No Sander Junior for me.” He continued, a bit dramatic. Basile was laughing like his jokes were the best he had heard all day. Sander smiled, it was nice to see Basile laugh. Which was, most of the time, actually, but still nice. 

During the ride, they saw tons of cafés and residential places. He likes the place because the houses are mostly made with red bricks, very different than the white ones used in Paris. It’s very different; smaller, more trees and parks, but smaller parks, there’s more dogs in leashes and car drivers are a bit less douchbaggy than they are in Paris. But still, the way he’s seated hurts.

“I’m never doing anal ever again.” He whined, and Eliott snorted; “Like you ever did anal before.” It’s Lucas’ turn to laugh.

“Well, I wish I had! Now it’s too late.” He joked, while Basile asked, serious, “I thought you were gay? How come you never scored? You’re almost sex on legs.” 

“ ‘m not gay, I’m pan! But I never had a boyfriend before.” Sander answered. “But you sleep with people at parties from time to time, no?” Lucas asked, wondering. “Oh yeah, sure, but not boys. I don’t want to have my first experience like that. Not that I’m a big fan of the “let’s have a first time that is very meaningful!” trope, but I just don’t feel like showing to some dude I don’t really know how unprepared I am when it comes to…” 

“Homo sex?” Basile said. Everyone laughed.

“Oh god…” Yann was still on his bike but laughing at the same time didn’t really help.

“I think I agree with the meaningful first time trope,” Eliott said, “I guess it’s our first difference, Sander.” 

“Are we getting all personal in the middle of Brussels?” Lucas asked, screaming a bit because his bike was the last one of their group. “Are we talking about our first times?”

“Ah, yes please tell Sander how did your first time happen, it’s so disgusting. We go there every day.” Yann said as a joke, and Lucas was very happy to answer, “That wasn’t our first time! But Yann is talking about the lycée’s student common room. Eliott and I were asked to paint over the ugly wall, and we ended up having sex with, uh, paint.” 

“To this day, you can still see the shape of Lucas’ ass if you look closely. Or not closely at all, it’s in the fucking middle.” Yann added, and Sander almost burst into tears while laughing. “Oh my god, I have to see that.” He said, to what Daphné answered, “Well, some of us are trying to unsee that.” 

As they were talking, Sander was still looking around the city. Brussels was extremely pretty, more than he thought it would be. He liked how being here made him feel: he was with his friends, making jokes, talking about their past, maybe later they’ll talk about their future. He was glad that they invited him to this trip. 

“My first time was with Ingrid, but it sucked like most first times, I had no idea of what I was doing and she did so that was embarrassing.” Yann explained. “Ours was like, a few months ago?” Basile said, thinking. Sander was amazed to learn that Basile could do more than one thing at the same time: talking AND riding a bike. 

“Oh, honey,” Daphné started, “I had sex with Charles before that.” Sander couldn’t see her because she was behind him but he was sure she was biting her lip - it’s a reflex she seemed to have whenever she was stressed. Basile just let out a small, “Ah!” and Eliott came in to save the discussion. 

“My first time with-” 

Sander couldn’t hear. In front of them, at a café, was a group of teenagers, young adults, and one of them was the exact copy of the boy he kept dreaming of. 

As cliché and stupidly romantic this would sound to Sander’s ears, the world seemed to stop for a second, and that second lasted an hour to him. Because it was him, Sander was sure: he had spent the last six years or so seeing him in his dreams, it wasn’t hard to know it was him. Somehow, he was real. He had spent so much time painting him, in a way to make him real, to let him enter his life in another way than how his unconscious was letting him. 

And now, he was here. 

“-Luci- oh putain what,” Eliott’s sentence went wrong somewhere, and so did the bike. Sander had no idea of what was going on but everything was hurting (more than just his ballsack and his butt), mostly his hands and knees that were scrapped, as the bike was on the ground, Eliott and Sander with it. Eliott was under him, the bike under Eliott. “Ouch, Eliott!” He said, annoyed that he made them crash. 

He got up, then offered his hand to Eliott so he would be able to stand up too. Eliott took it, then placed his hands on each side of Sander’s head, so he could bring him closer while he was whispering something to him, “I’m so sorry, I just- I just saw a guy, and, don’t look, DON’T LOOK too quickly, but it’s your Robbe guy,” Eliott’s eyes were sparkling, as if he discovered a river full of gold. Well, maybe he had. Sander smiled, happy to know that Eliott would get as messy and as happy as him when they would encounter someone that looked like the boy from his dreams. “And I was so surprised that I wasn’t thinking about the bike and all I could put my mind into was you, and- and, him.”

  
  


“You guys are okay?” Lucas asked, as they were all off their bikes, next to the boys, trying to know if Eliott had hurt any of them. Sander smiled, “Hm-hm, we’re really good. My hand hurts, it’s all,” he said, showing him proudly how his palm was scratched and a bit of blood was fighting with dirt on it. Lucas laughed and checked on Eliott, when someone walked to them. 

“Hallo! Alles goed?” She said, concerned. She probably had seen them crash. She had nice white hair and a pretty face. I could paint her, Sander thought. “Ja, zeker.” He licked his lips, “Do you have water, perhaps? I could do with some, to clean my hand.” She smiled at him, then turned around, screaming to her group of friends who were still sitting at their table, enjoying their cafés and teas and cookies, “Robbe! Kun je water brengen?”

When she had said the name Robbe, Lucas took Sander’s hand. It had taken him longer than Eliott to understand what was going on, and now he knew why they crashed.

“Putain.” 


	3. modern love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!!! i hope you will enjoy!  
> if you want to talk abt this, just talk in general, or be included as an @ in this fic, my twitter is @/thegoldfimch  
> big big thanks to camille for being a beta of this fic, sarah for making me go angsty, ben for supporting me in my dms

"So, you crashed this. And by this I'm not telling you crashed the bike, because that was me, but you literally crashed your meeting with Robbe." Eliott said, a few hours after the incident. Sander could feel tension, as if Eliott was embarrassed. The two of them were alone, sitting in the grass in front of two ponds. Ducks and swans were fighting in front of them, people were drinking cheap beer, others were out with their dogs. The evening was cold but not too cold either: usual, for a country like Belgium, in the middle of february. The day was over and the sun was gone, even if it only was seven in the afternoon.

“I know.” Sander takes a drag of his cigarette. “Don’t even tell me, I know.” All of their friends were near, inside an hipster bar called Le Belga. Sander liked it, but it was full of older people and he wanted to smoke alone just for a second. He didn’t mind Eliott, it was as if being with Eliott felt as good as being alone. His friend sat next to him and handed him a glass. Sander took it and gave his cigarette in exchange. 

“What’s this?” He had asked, wondering about the glass but Eliott had spoken at the same time, pointing out, “I had no idea that you smoke.”

Eliott smiled, kindly. Sander liked it when Eliott was showing him that side of him, the intimate side. The “we’re close friends and we talk with more than words” side of Eliott. “It’s beer. Called Pêcheresse. It tastes like peach, you’ll like it, I hope.” 

Sander had taken a sip and, yes, it really tasted like peach. 

“‘Mmh, c’est bon.” He told him, still holding the glass in his hands and letting his fingers play with it. “And, uh, It’s not that I smoke or that I don’t smoke. I just sometimes do and most of the time don’t, I guess. It’s not that deep and I’m not smoking now because I’m emotionally weirded out by what happened today.” He directly told Eliott, knowing that the cigarette question wasn’t just to make small talk. “I mean, I am emotionally weirded out, but I’m not sad, if that’s what you think. I’m not stress-smoking.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” Eliott had pointed out. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

Eliott’s head had found his way to Sander’s shoulder, where he lied for a second. It must be very uncomfortable, he thought, because Sander was clearly smaller than him. 

“You’re right, the meeting wasn’t what I had expected.” Sander told him, “But yet, I don’t know what I was expecting. I had no fucking idea that he was even a real person with real thoughts and that these puppy eyes were real-” 

“Too romantic, Sander,” Eliott had said, joking around. 

“He didn’t even look at me. He went straight up to his friend, gave her the bottle of water and then left, Eliott. Not a single look. I have white hair, for fuck’s sake, that’s not an usual hair color, and he didn’t even notice me, like I wasn’t even there.” 

“His friend had white hair too.” 

“Zoë?” Sander told him. He had no idea why Eliott was bringing her up, but just thinking about her made him smile. During their small talk after they had crashed the bike, Zoë stayed with them a few minutes to take care of Sander’s injured hand. If you could call that an injury, it was just a bit of blood mixed with dirt. They had talked and directly liked each other; maybe Zoë was one of those people who went along greatly with everyone she met. She had a kind voice and her dutch accent in english was just noticeable enough to sound cute. 

“Yeah, Zoë. She was nice.” Eliott said. A silence. 

“You know, you didn’t see him looking at you maybe because you didn’t notice him at the right time.” 

Sander had licked his lips. 

“He did, look at you. For a few seconds. You were on the ground, Zoë was pouring water on your hand and your face went weird and you made a quiet sound, so he looked at you. You didn’t see him, but he did see you. Then he left and joined his friends, leaving Zoë alone with us.” Eliott explained while finishing Sander’s cigarette. Both of them smiled. “I used to look at Lucas a lot, when he didn’t see me.”

“Hard to think anyone would not see you, with a physique like that, but okay,” Sander answered, laughing a bit, before taking a sip of Eliott’s beer. His friend let out a hum as an answer, “When I don’t want to be seen I’m not. I can be sneaky.” Sander could hear Eliott’s smile in his voice. “Just racoon things!” Sander added, which made his friend laugh. “Yeah, yeah! Just raton laveur things!”

Eliott got up, leaving nothing but a cold spot that was very warm before on Sander’s neck. It’s crazy how intimacy with your friends will, at some point, start to become as addictive as it does with your lovers, Sander thought.

“Come on, let’s join the others inside. We’re all missing your pretty face.” Eliott had said, offering his hand to Sander in the idea of helping him get up. 

“Wait.” Sander told him, unsure. “There’s something I have to tell you. I think you might help me figure out what it meant.” He’s thinking about how to put words over pictures he can clearly see in his head, but it’s difficult. Eliott was looking at him curiously, silently asking what he wanted to say. 

“I had one of those dreams, a few months ago, a few weeks after I met you.” He started, “But I didn’t tell you or Lucas or Emma or anyone, ever. We weren’t as close, and then when we started to be, I thought that maybe it was better to keep that particular dream for myself. I was afraid that maybe it’ll be, uh.” Sander paused. “ I just wasn’t sure it was a good idea to share it with anyone. I’m not even sure why I’m doing it right now, but it feels like we’re close enough for me to be able to open up to you like that.” Sander doesn’t look at Eliott, he knows his friend is waiting for him to explain more before saying anything. 

“I was in a pool,” he said, playing with the hem of his sweater, “naked, completely naked, and the boy was there, also naked, I think. I can’t remember much, but he had no t-shirt on, that’s for sure.” 

“That’s where the painting you did came from, right?” Eliott asked, his voice gentle. 

“Yes, yes.” Sander had cleared his throat, “He was in front of me, and we were underwater, and we were looking at each other intensely, as if we were both waiting for something and then I got closer and closer to him, to kiss him I think. In my dreams, I can’t control anything - it’s like I’m watching a really weird memory in which I can’t pick where I want to go and what I want to say, and it’s so blurry all the time, like I’m watching a part of the dream that wasn’t constructed yet? Or which didn’t even exist at all? And when I did kiss him, because I never do and always wake up before we kiss, my dream kept going. For once. Even after that, I had more dreams and they all ended before I could kiss him.” He paused for a second.

“I closed my eyes during the kiss, and I felt the water all around me move, and then we were out of the water, I mean, still in the pool, and most of our bodies were underwater but not our heads, and we were just kissing so passionately? So weird. So, so weird. So I opened my eyes to look at him, but it wasn’t him anymore.” 

Sander placed his head in his hands, trying to remember as many details as possible. 

“The pool was way smaller, and I wasn’t naked anymore, and so was he, but then again it wasn’t him, it was a blonde boy. I never saw him in my whole life, but he was there, weirdly, and hell, I was sharing all of my mouth with him.” Eliott was smiling, almost laughing at Sander’s distress. “Come on! Don’t laugh! You have no idea how confusing my dreams are!” Eliott had tried to stop, “Okay, okay, keep going.” 

“I closed my eyes once more and the pool wasn’t small anymore and the guy wasn’t the same, it wasn’t Robbe or the blonde one either. So I closed them again, thinking it might switch to someone else, and I was right because there’s suddenly a girl, with long blonde hair in front of me, well, on me, still kissing me like all of the others. I closed my eyes, again, and I wasn’t kissing anyone anymore, and I wasn’t wet at all, because I was no longer underwater. I think I was inside a pool, but like, without any water. I’m in front of another boy and his hair goes in every direction you could imaginate and his nose was touching mine and it felt so intimate. So damn intimate, like I shouldn’t be a part of that dream, but it felt so good to live that, even if it wasn’t real. “

Eliott was way more serious, now. As if he was waiting for Sander to tell him a secret. As if he knew what would follow. 

“I heard a voice, in my dream. I knew it was familiar, but for a second I couldn’t recognize who it was, and thinking about it made me forget the tone.” He licked his lips, “It said, _ t’as peur de la pluie aussi? _ ” Eliott’s jaw clenched, but Sander continued. “And it was weird because I knew that the boy in front of me wasn’t the one who said that, because his mouth wasn’t moving, but mine wasn’t either, so it must have been someone else. I had closed my eyes again, it was raining. As if the only thing that linked all of my dreams was water. The pools, the empty pool, the rain. Then in front of me,” 

“Lucas.” Eliott had said. 

“Yes, Lucas.” Sander licked his lips once more, “he’s showing me his hands and he’s silently asking me to join his and, and then I do and they’re not my hands.” He paused. “I knew they were yours because I have this notebook in which I only draw hands and I drew your hands so many times it’s almost like they’re mine. And for a few seconds, they were. Lucas got closer to me, and when he - uh, kissed, me, but not me, well, you get me, I woke up. I know what you think. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid that you’d think I was having wet dreams about your boyfriend, but here’s the thing. At that time, I had never seen Lucas. I can remember you telling me about your boyfriend, but I had never seen a picture of him, less even him in real life. Actually, I met Lucas the day after.” 

Eliott is silent.

“ I didn’t tell you because it makes it look like I’m crazy and I make up stuff. It’s, just, I can’t stop thinking about this dream these last few days. I’m simply there, then I’ll dissociate on a glass full of water, and the thought would come back running from the back of my brain. My thoughts never stop.” 

Eliott is biting his bottom lip. Sander knew he was thinking.

“Okay, okay, fine.” His friend told him. “It’s weird, your dreams, they’re all over the place, and maybe I did think for a second that you and Lucas are pranking me but I can remember what you said about your dreams of yellow curtains and what Lucas told me when we were laying together.  _ Putain, ça me déglingue le cerveau.  _ It’s so weird, that you know so many things and yet, it really makes me think that Lucas’ theory is starting to become way too real. It scares me, in a way. But it also explains so much about you and me.”

Sander smiled awkwardly. 

“Next time you’re going to the pool, or when it’s raining, you better be ready.” Eliott had joked, and Sander laughed, happy that he got to talk about his dream. 

“Or maybe I could just steal your boyfriend because I know exactly what to do,” He had said, showing him his tongue. 

“You asshole you wouldn’t!” 

***

_ @earthlingoddity: comme une histoire qu’on aurait inventé pour ne jamais se dévoiler  _

_ @dreamiesau: can someone translate?? what’s going on with sander today he never tweets in french _

_ @skamishurting reply to @dreamiesau: it means “like a story we would’ve invented to never show ourselves” _

_ @mlmdemaury reply to @skamishurting and @dreamiesau it’s actually lyrics! from instantané by paradise. french excellence!!!  _

_ @srcantswim; user earthlingoddity tweets so many lyrics someone should make a playlist with all of em  _

***

“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow.” Daphné said, a few days later, as they were walking in the street, trying to find another bar to hang out. They had visited one next to their AirBnb, but the music was way too loud and not the type that they wanted to listen to. “I like the belgians. They’re nicer than the people in Paris.” She added. 

“Well, at least we visited everything we wanted to see. I’m glad we went to Keith Haring’s exhibition and even if Lucas says otherwise, the panorama place was very very nice.” Eliott said and Sander could sense Lucas’ eye roll. 

“Guys, we could just buy some beer in a market and then drink it outside. We’ve been walking around and searching for a bar for too long now. I’m boreeeeed.” Emma said, walking next to Imane while holding her arm. “Isn’t it too cold?” Yann asked, and Basile immediately went next to Daphné to ask her: “Baby, are you cold? Do you think it’s cold outside?” to which she had smiled and side-hugged her boyfriend, “Ahh, you’re so cute, my knight! No I’m perfectly fine I have your sweater on.” 

“You guys heard the lady, we’re fine!” Arthur said, before turning to Alexia, “You’re not asking me if I’m cold right now?”

“Well, I’m not asking because I don’t want you to ask for my sweater either!” Alexia answered, joking. 

“Here, guys, there’s something open we can buy some stuff here.” Sofiane said, entering a shop, everyone following him inside. Behind them, another group of people entered the shop. It was kinda shady, made of two rooms. Most of them went to the fridges to buy cheap beer, and so did Sander, but he wanted something else. He had craved a can of J&B whisky cola, for some reason. A song by Beyoncé was playing on the radio, which seemed to amuse Imane and Alexia, who were dancing around their boyfriends and a very unamused Emma. Before she could even whine about, the music changed and- 

“Oh, god, no.” Eliott had said, his head in his hands. Sander smiled. He could recognize this song everywhere. 

“Oh, god, yes!” He said, took a can of whisky cola in his hand to use it as a fake mic. He got closer to Eliott, to annoy him further, “ _ I know when to go out, and when to stay in… Get things done. _ ” Eliott was walking away. “Come on, Sander!” He told him, “enough!” 

“It’s Bowie, you can’t stop him.” Lucas said, from the second room of the shop. Sander was still singing to his alcohol can, following Eliott around. It was usual for them to act that way, mocking each other’s music taste, and annoying each other when it was possible. Eliott was trying to act normal, taking a bag of chips in his hands and apologizing to the other customers for Sander’s behavior. “Sorry, he’s a big Bowie fan, so whenever one of his songs plays, his dick gets hard and he does embarrassing things like this.” 

Sander showed him his tongue, still dancing and singing. 

“Oh, it’s fine. I quite like the show.” Answered a girl who was also looking at the chips, and Sander knew who she was. Well, he didn’t, but he had a feeling that he knew that voice and that face. Oh. 

“Zoë?” Sander said, dropping his act. Next to her, the boy of his dreams. He was smiling, in a “I’m mocking you but not that much” way, his index lightly touching his bottom lip. 

“You remember my name! Sander, right?” She told him, walking her way to kiss his cheek, as if they were old friends who just ran into each other after months, when they actually met for the first time a week ago. 

“Yeah, Sander.” He answered, kissing her cheek. “And that’s Eliott.” She went to kiss his cheek too, while Sander continued to introduce his friends. “And Lucas, and Basile, and Daphné, Imane, Emma, Yann, Sofiane, Arthur, Alexia.” 

Zoë laughed. “Wow, you guys are a football team.” It was Eliott’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s only the two of you?” He asked, pointing to Zoë and Robbe. 

“Oh, we’re the ones on buying duty but most of our friends are waiting for us in our AirBnb. This is Robbe, by the way.” She said, taking a bag of chips in her hands. 

“Oh, I know.” Eliott answered, and Sander’s blood went cold. Embarrassing. “I mean, we saw him the other day and you called him Robbe, so I connected the dots.” He quickly added, saving himself from an awkward discussion. 

“Happy to meet you correctly.” Robbe said, offering his hand to Eliott, but watching Sander who was next to him. Uh, oh. “You’re not singing and dancing anymore? Zoë and I were enjoying the show.” He asked, smiling. 

“I got distracted. Passion isn’t there. Can’t fake it anymore.” Sander answered, his throat dry. 

“Do you want to continue that at our place?” Zoë said, looking at Robbe. The boy turned around, “Wait, are you sure it’s a good idea? We don’t know if Senne and Milan are okay with this. And I’m not even talking about the girls.” Robbe said, eyeing Zoë. 

“Milan always likes to party, Senne too. These two are cute enough for the girls to accept all of them to party a bit. Come on, it could be funny.” She answered him. “We don’t even know if they’re busy. They’re probably busy. Right?” Robbe added, looking at them. Daphné, who was probably eavesdropping since the beginning, came into the discussion, “We’re not really doing anything! We were about to drink outside but it’s much better to join you guys! I love meeting new people! Everyone agrees?” Sander smiled. Daphné was always like that, seeing the bright side. It was easy to like her that way. Everyone, including Imane, which was unusual, agreed. They all seemed eager to go inside someone stranger’s house, but Sander didn’t mind if it meant that the boy was there. And even if he wasn’t, he would be with his friends, enjoying music and warmth and the light buzz that alcohol gives him. He turned to look at Robbe, who was looking down, unsure. 

“I’ll text Milan, to ask.” Robbe said, taking his phone in his hands. In a second, he got an answer and showed the phone to Zoë. “You won.” She gave him a huge smile and hugged him, “It’ll be fun, Robbe.” 

***

_ @earthlingoddity: started from lip syncing david bowie in a shop now we’re here (pic attached of sander and imane inside an apartment)  _

***

Sander and Yann were outside on a balcony, smoking, with some guy named Moyo - he was nice, talked fast and had a dutch accent when he was speaking in english. The party happened mostly in english, because half of them were speaking french, and the other dutch, and while some could understand and talk a bit in the other’s language, it was easier to settle down to english, that they all talked well. (Except Basile, but well, he was using Arthur as his own personal translator)

“How come you guys have weed? I thought you didn’t live here. I would be terrified to buy weed in a city that’s not mine, what if it’s full of shit?” Yann asked Moyo, intrigued. Mojo took a hit of his joint, “We’re from Antwerp, which isn’t far so you can take the train, which means no police checks, so we took our own shit with us. But the weed in Brussels ain’t so bad, from what I’ve heard. ‘Not like you’re in Budapest or some shady city.” Moyo said, laughing. “If you want some, I can tell you where to go, or like sell you some of ours.” 

Yann had shaken his head, “No, don’t worry, we’re leaving tomorrow anyway.” 

“Ah, that’s cool. You guys are going back to Paris?” He asked, but before Yann could answer, the door of the balcony opened and a very drunk Emma followed by a - probably, quite drunk too? - Robbe. 

“Guys! We did it!” She had said, offering a bottle with holes. 

“Homemade bong? Siiiick.” Moyo said, taking it from Emma’s hands. Robbe closed the balcony’s door and tried to find a place. He went in front of Sander, a beer in his hands, fingers fidgeting on the paper and taking it off. 

Yann hummed, “Emma, I thought you didn’t smoke? You didn’t like it when I was.” She had laughed, alcohol in her system showing. “I don’t! But now I find it hot.” 

“She’s straightforward when she’s drunk.” Sander explained to Moyo and Robbe. Moyo was holding the bottle for Robbe, who was taking his third hit, before he handed it to Yann. 

“She didn’t find it hot when she was with me,” Yann whispered to Sander’s ear. “That was a while ago, Yann. Alex has happened since.” He answered. “Or you did?” Yann said, Sander looking at him weirdly. 

“Well, I’m going inside! Bye guys!” She had said, kissing Sander’s cheek; close to his mouth. He quickly grabbed her hand, then talked to her in french, “Quand t’es bourrée tu penses à des trucs que tu refuses quand t’es sobre, alors fais gaffe.”  _ When you’re drunk you think about things that you would say no to if you’ were sober, so watch out.  _ “Surtout par rapport à moi.”  _ Mostly about me. _ He looked at her kindly, as she had turned around, smiling sadly. 

“Y’a un truc que je voulais vous dire, et je sais pas pourquoi j’ai jamais trouvé le bon moment pour le faire.”  _ There’s something I wanted to tell you too, and I don’t know why I never found the right moment to say it.  _ “Mais depuis ce moment dans la salle de bain, j’arrête pas de faire des rêves.”  _ But since that time in the bathroom, I keep having dreams. _ “Et je sais que toi, Sander, t’as un rapport au rêve super particulier, du coup peut-être que toi et moi on est dans le même bateau, au final,”  _ And I know that, you, Sander, you have a weird connection to dreams, and maybe you and I are in the same situation, in the end, _ “Mais en gros, je rêve de trucs que Yann et moi on a fait mais c’est pas lui. C’est un autre mec. Mais c’est des trucs qu’il a fait avec moi, des choses qu’il a dit, et tout.”  _ Long story short, I dream of things that Yann and I did but it’s not him. It’s another dude. But it’s things he did with me, things he said, and all.  _ ”Du coup, ça me rend toute bizarre. J’ai l’impression que si on rejoue la scène de la salle de bains, peut-être que ça va s’arrêter.” _ So, in the end, it makes me feel weird. I feel like if we do the bathroom scene once more, maybe it will stop. _ “Bref, je suis grave khapta et j’ai froid, là maintenant, donc je vais rentrer. On en parle demain dans le bus, steuplait?”  _ Anyway, I’m super drunk and I’m cold right now, so I’m going inside. We’ll talk about it tomorrow on the bus, pleaaaase?  _

She opened the door and went inside, leaving Yann and Sander silent. Sander knew exactly how she was feeling ; lost, like him with Robbe. Maybe it was one of those parallel things, too. Yann just looked confused. 

“You should go inside and talk to her.” Moyo said. Sander’s eyebrow lifted up, “You speak french? You understood us?”

“Ah, no, but I could hear the tone and see the body language, that doesn’t lie.” Moyo had answered.

Yann gave the bong to Sander, who refused it and started rolling a cigarette instead. Moyo refused the bong too and it went into Robbe’s hands. 

“She said she wanted to talk about it tomorrow.” Yann looked inside, “Look, she already forgot, she’s having fun with one of your friends.” He said, showing the two girls dancing. “What’s her name, again?” 

Robbe looked. “That’s Jana.” 

“Well, she’s having fun with Jana! I’m going to force her to drink water now.” Yann had said, opening the door. “Wait! Can I ask you a question about Emma?” Moyo said, following him inside, leaving Robbe and Sander alone, in silence. 

“So, uh, you guys are from Paris?” Robbe had asked, awkwardly. Sander knew this tone; the one you usually take when you’re talking to someone you don’t know, and when you’re trying to fake interest. Sander smiled at Robbe, who was still smoking, and woah, this dude could take a lot of weed in. 

“Yeah, we are, and we’re leaving tomorrow.” Sander answered, and Robbe hummed back. Silence again. 

“And you’re a David Bowie fan.” Robbe added. 

“I’m a super fan. He’s my favorite artist, made me want to start making my own art.”

“Oh, you do art? That’s really cool, what type? Paintings? Music? Film? Fashion?” He said, directly more interested by what Sander could tell him. Robbe got closer, his shoulder touching Sander’s, who lifted his eyebrow up. 

“I mostly paint and draw. I want to make more things, but I can’t find the inspiration. I’m in art college, so it shouldn’t be so hard for me, but sometimes I can’t do anything.” He shrugged. 

“You should show me some of it.” Robbe told him, giving him the bong, that Sander refused. Robbe put it on the ground. 

“One more hit and you’d be completely off this world.” He had said, smirking. Robbe laughed. “I just really like being high. The feeling when your face is burning but also it’s completely numb? Feels very great and you can say whatever you want and no one will really judge you because you can blame it on something else. Like Jana does with alcohol.” 

“Emma is a bit like that, too.” Sander laughed. 

“Yeah, by the way, trouble in paradise? It seemed like something was up.” Robbe asked. Funny how he seemed less awkward and more interested in Sander now that they exchanged a few sentences. 

“Hm, we’re not dating.” Sander had said, afraid that maybe Robbe wouldn’t be interested if he thought that he was with Emma. “We had a thing a while ago and she told me no, but everytime she drinks she comes back like she wants something, which is not the case, she doesn’t want anything from me.” 

“Tell Moyo that, I think he has been drooling over her for the whole evening. He even seemed disappointed when you two spoke together.” 

Sander laughed. “He should go for it, he’s Emma’s style.” Robbe smiled, “Oh yeah? Which is?” Sander winked, “Has a dick, looks like he’s bad news.” 

Robbe laughed. “Well, not that hard to obtain.” 

Eliott opened the door to the balcony, a rolled cigarette between his lips, a beer in his hand. He looked at Robbe, then the very small space that separated him with Sander, then at his friend.

“Tu m’allumes?”  _ Can you light my cigarette? _ Sander had taken his lighter and helped Eliott. 

“Bon, ça avance avec ton mec?”  _ So, how is it going with your boyfriend? _ Eliott asked, in french. If Sander had been drinking right now, he would surely spit it all out. 

“T’es fou? Ferme là, il parle peut-être français.”  _ You’re nuts? Shut up, maybe he speaks french. _

Eliott smiled, then locked his eyes with Robbe, “Parfois, je me touche avec de la confiture d’airelles. C’est vraiment cool, ça ajoute des sensations.” 

Robbe didn’t bat an eye, and just turned to Sander, as if he was silently asking for a traduction. “Tu vois? Il parle pas français il a même pas réagi.”  _ See? He doesn’t speak french, he didn’t react. _ “J’aurais pu te tuer si ça avait été le cas.” _ I could’ve killed you if it was the case _ . 

“Allez, maintenant, dis moi, ça se passe comment?”  _ So, now, tell me, how is it going?  _

“Rien de particulier. On discute, c’est tout. Je profite, je sais que je le reverrai plus après.”  _ Nothing much. We’re talking, that’s all. I’m enjoying it, I know I won’t see him after.  _

Eliott took a drag of his cigarette. “Il est cute, en vrai.”  _ He’s cute, actually.  _

“Cute c’est un mot qui fonctionne aussi en anglais, tu sais, hein?”  _ Cute is a word that also works in english, you know, uh?”  _

“Je sais. Mais n’empêche. Comment tu te sens?”  _ I know. Whatever. How are you feeling?  _

“Bizarre.” _ Weird. _

Sander looked at Robbe, who was patiently waiting for them to talk in a language he could understand. He locked eyes with him. It somehow felt powerful to be able to tell him what was on his mind and what he thought of Robbe without having him understand a single word of what he’s saying. 

“Je me sens bizarre, parce qu’il est tellement impressionnant, et quand il rigole il a des fossettes, juste à côté de sa bouche, et c’est super mignon. Il est mignon, en fait. Il s’intéresse à moi. C’est comme un rêve, sauf que je rêve pas, et j’ai envie de faire un tas de trucs parce que cette fois-ci je contrôle ce que fais mon corps. J’ai envie d’embrasser son cou, savoir si il est chatouilleux, peut-être.” _ I feel weird, because he’s so intimidating, and when he laughs he has dimples, just next to his mouth, and it’s super cute. He’s cute, actually. He’s interested in me. It’s like a dream, except I’m not dreaming, and I want to do so many things because this time I can control what my body does. I want to kiss his neck, to know if he's ticklish, maybe. _

  
  


Robbe was still holding his eyes, but not reacting. 

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked. Eliott finished his cigarette, “Oh, nothing much, about the pasta we ate yesterday in this really cute italian restaurant in the center. You should try. It was called Chez Pépé. Really worth your money.” He smiled to Robbe. Dang, Eliott was good at lying. 

“I’m going inside, I can’t leave Lucas and vodka alone too long or he’ll combust. Ah, et je ferme la porte à clé, je vous enferme dehors, je te préviens. Tu me remercieras plus tard.”  _ Ah, and I’m closing the door, you’ll be stuck outside, I’m warning you. You’ll thank me later _ . 

“Je te hais.” _ I hate you _ . 

Eliott sent him a kiss from inside. 

“I’ll try the italian restaurant next time I’ll be in Brussels.” Robbe told him, and Sander had to think for a second before understanding why he was talking about that. 

“You come here often?” He asked, playing with the hem of his shirt. Maybe he was a bit stressed. 

“Oh, every weekend or so. Zoë and I are going to live here next year, to study at the VUB, and we’re trying to adapt to this city and maybe make some friends before we get here for the entire year.” He explained, simply. 

“Must cost so much money in AirBnbs.” Sander pointed out. “Zoë said that you guys were staying in one right now.” 

“No, she jokes about it but it’s her parent’s apartment. She used to live here two years ago and they still have the propriety and rent it to strangers, except when we ask for it.” Robbe had told him, looking down at him. 

Then, something touched Sander’s face. He had looked up, and it seemed like it was raining, but with tiny, tiny rocks. “Ouch, ouch! What the fuck is that?” Sander couldn’t help but think about water: the pools, the rain. It’s water. 

“Erm, it’s weird, we’re not in march yet.” He said, offering his hand to the sky, trying to understand what was going on. Something fell in his hand. “Ah, yes, it’s what I was thinking…” He showed to Sander what was in his hand, it was a small snowflake, but it seemed bigger and harder than a normal snowflake. 

“What? What’s that.” He looked closer, holding Robbe’s hand. 

“In Belgium, we have a special word for this. It’s a type of rain that happens just before spring, in march, it’s in between rain and snow, not really one nor the other. The name in french is giboulées de mars.” He said, his accent in french, perfect. 

Sander’s blood had froze. 

“You speak french.” He asked, looking at Robbe with serious eyes. 

“Yeah, I do.” He laughed, his system clearly affected by the giant quantity of weed he took during the party. “In Belgium, we can learn french as a second language, so yes.” Robbe had said, smiling hard. “I know we’re locked outside, and I know what you said about me, if that’s what you’re stressed about. If you want to, you can call Eliott and tell him to open the door and you can leave this party.” 

Sander had stayed silent.

“Or you could look inside, check if no one is looking at us so we could, uh.” He added. 

“Why is that an option?” Sander stopped him in the middle of his sentence.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to say it out loud, it’s embarrassing.” Robbe said, looking down. Suddenly, he looked way less confident than he did a few seconds ago. 

“Why do you want to do that?” 

“What, not saying the word? Or doing the thing.” 

“The thing, Robbe. You don’t know me.” Sander answered. 

“You want a cute answer or a realistic one?” Robbe said, getting closer. 

“Cute.” 

“You want to, I want to.” he said, looking inside to see if anyone was watching them. 

“And the realistic one?” Sander asked, curious. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow, I won’t ever see you again, which means I won’t have to think about being in the closet, and won’t think about falling in love with you. We kiss, we both get some attention, then I stay safe and straight, and we both go on with our lives. I’m high, you’re drunk, it’s perfect. 

Sander took a deep breath. 

The giboulées de mars were a form of water. 

The pools, the empty pool, the rain, the giboulées. 

So he decided to kiss Robbe.


	4. dans l'espace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!  
> last chapter! i just wanted to say thank you for the response i got for the first chapters, it really made me happy. i'm glad for everyone who dmed me, and the friends i made thanks to this fic.  
> big thanks to everyone who commented, big thanks to all of the kind people who let me use their @s in this fic. special thanks to alwayskissmeatnight who wrote more words in their comments than there are in one chapter of this fic, you made me v happy!!!! 
> 
> BIG BIG BIG thanks to camille, who proof-read this, and managed to keep herself sane somehow, to sarah, who kept me awake for hours, baguette svp <3
> 
> my @ on twitter is thegoldfimch, come talk to me <3

@philkhedarhi: anyone knows where user @eartlingoddity is? he hasn’t tweeted in twenty minutes. weird. im a stressed mom

@bauw3ns: i have music recs for sander where is he when we need him

***

Sander’s head was hitting against the door as Robbe was kissing him, impatiently. Robbe’s thumb was on his jaw, drawing circles gently, the rest of his fingers behind his neck and playing with his hair, while his other hand was weirdly pushing him, pressing his stomach against the door. Sander had thought that it was a weird way to hold him in place, but he didn’t mind, because his mind was somewhere else right now. He was thinking of him. Both of his arms were around Robbe, falling behind his neck. It was nice to hold him like that.

They had left the balcony ; the giboulées de mars were way too annoying for them; their sweatshirts were completely soaked with water, so they went inside to continue what they were doing.

“Wait, someone could come here, you know?” Sander had said a few minutes earlier, aware that Robbe wanted to keep what they were doing out of his friends’ eyes. “Yeah, don’t worry about that.” Robbe had said when he closed the door after Sander had entered the room. “This will be my room when we live here. In the meantime, no one comes here because even if it’s not mine yet I’m the only one who sleeps in here.” He had smiled. “Well, when it’s not used as an AirBnb.” He had laughed, quietly, his dimples showing. Sander was completely amazed by him, and mostly by that part of his face, it made his chest feel dizzy and he had lost himself in the moment. 

Kissing Robbe was sloppy, probably because he was extra high, and Sander was somehow drunk. He could feel his face hot and he was wondering if it came from him being flustered or if the alcohol had more effect on him than he thought it would have. It was wet, and Sander felt that Robbe was trying to get as much action he could get from some stranger he just met. Yet, even if this seemed like all the others hidden makeout Sander had had behind closed doors, he knew that this time it was different - his heart was heavy, banging in his chest, maybe to give out a message or to ask for help. Robbe must have had a feeling, because his hand moved from his belly towards his chest and then he stopped the kiss. 

Sander opened his eyes after a few seconds of waiting for lips to crash against his and not receiving the attention he was waiting for. Robbe was looking at him and his brown eyes were as complex as the ones he had been dreaming of for the past years. As if he could speak louder with his eyes than with his actual voice, only if he knew which specific look meant what. It was a key that Sander thought he had in his hands after all of the dreams he lived, and the many times he spent digging his memories to be able to represent Robbe in his paintings and drawings. 

He surely didn't have the key to Robbe's mysterious eye language, because he had no idea what his puppy eyes were saying right now.

It was frightening to Sander ; for the first time he realized that, maybe, the boy if his dreams isn't him, and even if it was him, a whole life separated the one he fantasized about and the one he had in front of him, in his arms. 

"What's going on?" Sander asked.

Robbe's eyes went to his lips, for a second, before looking at him directly again. "Nothing. I was dizzy for a second." Robbe's hand was still on his chest, while Sander's heart was loudly asking to get out of his body and find a place to be in the other boy's reach. Sander would gladly let him out and finish this painful scene. It was weird for him to be in front of Robbe, who wasn’t one of his dreams for once: to be able to say what he truly wanted to say and not someone else’s words, he was able to move the way he wanted to and not wake up as soon as their lips collided, and yet, it was uneasy to experience. Because Robbe was his own person, with a past and memories that Sander didn’t share, didn’t even know the existence of, and it hurted to fall so madly for someone he thought he knew, but didn’t at all.

Robbe's breath is hitting Sander's skin as he spoke.

He kissed him once more and Sander thought that his eyes were redder than usual. He’s not really thinking about anything and only comes back to earth when Robbe’s lips stopped once more, but they were still touching his. “I love this song,” he said, whispering against Sander’s mouth. Sander smiled, and listened, but didn’t recognize it. “What is it?” He asked, his nose playing with Robbe’s. The other boy was smiling and Sander could see the dimple right next to his mouth. It was really him, it couldn’t be anyone else. Robbe had let out a chuckle, which forced Sander to continue the nose kiss further. Anything to please him. 

“It’s Brockhampton.” Robbe answered. Sander hummed against his lips, without even knowing if that was the name of the artist or the name of the song. He secretly hoped that Robbe wouldn't know that he didn't recognize either one. 

He moved his head and went straight to Robbe’s neck, leaving a few kisses on it. It was as if he had made a promise, when they were outside, that he would do it. He wanted to do it, and this wasn’t a dream, so he was able to move and kiss Robbe where he wanted to without waking up. Sander loved that feeling.

Robbe’s hand moved to his jaw, gently asking him to look at him and Sander didn’t mind because he could look at him for hours if he had the opportunity. He knew that, between the two of them, right now, one was feeling it too much, and the other, too little. He wondered if it was the right way to do this between them, because this wouldn’t go anywhere other than, if he was lucky enough to go there, a quick fuck behind closed doors. 

Robbe kissed him quickly, a simple peck on his lips, then moved away, looking at Sander, who touched Robbe’s nose with his, once more, because he knew that this was something that he liked. “Hm!” Robbe said, not in a sexy way, but more in a surprised animal way, then he let out a laugh that betrayed that he wasn’t at ease. Robbe moved away, leaving Sander next to the door, his body cold, without a hand holding him without the other playing with his jaw and hair, without lips against his. It was colder now than when they were outside in the pouring rain.

"Can we just lay down?" Robbe asked, now sitting on the bed. 

Sander mumbled something before joining him, “Yeah, sure.” then cleared his throat, “Did I do something wrong?” 

Robbe breathed out, then completely laid down on the bed. Sander was really looking at him for the first time: Robbe, without a filter of sociability that he had when he was with strangers he didn’t know. His face was red, flustered, a part of his Jamaroquai t-shirt was wet from the rain, just below his neck, his hands were brushing through his hair anxiously, “Mhh, no it’s fine. It’s just-” He started, sounding a bit lost. “You only had relationships, right, you don’t really have one night stands?” 

Sander made a weird face. Why was he asking that? 

“I had both. Why?” He started to take his shoes off, to sit properly on the bed, next to Robbe. 

“Hm. Weird.” Robbe answered, seeming thoughtful. “The way you do things, the kisses, the touches, it’s uh, intimate. I felt like I was your boyfriend for a second. That’s why I thought that maybe you’re only used to intimacy.” 

“Oh.” Sander had said. “That’s why you wanted to stop. I weirded you out.”

Robbe moved his head and turned towards Sander, who had finally taken his shoes off completely. They were a piece of work to get off. “No! It wasn’t weird out. It was just a mixture of too intimate to only be strangers, and too hot to only be kisses, and I don’t want to have sex right now.” He said, his voice changing it’s tone when he was talking. Sander smiled at him, kindly, because oh, Robbe really sounded high as hell. “You’re sex on legs, weet jij dat?” Yeah, really high. 

“Yeah, Alexia says it all the time.” He shrugged, then laid down next to Robbe, not too close, he didn’t want to annoy him any further. The other boy got closer, close enough for Sander to feel his breath against his face, which perturbed Sander. What’s with the mixed signals?

“Je suis ton premier?” _Am I your first one?_ Sander asked, because the silence weighed too much on his chest and he didn’t want it to last. Robbe seemed like someone without experience. 

“Ik ga je die informatie niet geven!” _I’m not telling you this information!_ Robbe said, in dutch, and Sander smiled, because he understood the overall idea of what he had said. "Am I?" He asked, then, returning to english.

"Oh so you get to avoid the question but then directly ask it back?" Sander answered, laughing. Robbe smiled and rolled his eyes. "So?"

"I've never had sex with a guy, but I did make out more than a few times. And I had a girlfriend for like, years." Sander said, suddenly serious. Robbe looked at him, sharing his eyes for a second, sharing his thoughts, almost. Sander would love to take a picture of this. Robbe was right, what was going on right now was way too intimate. It would be easy for Sander, to touch him lightly, caress his cheek, draw shapes with the tip of his finger on Robbe's shoulders, lay kisses from his neck to his nose, then in his hair, holding him tight, gazing at him and holding his breath, as if they were underwater.

It would be easy for Sander because, and this was the first time he admitted it to himself, that he had been falling for Robbe for the past two years. Maybe not falling in love, but falling nonetheless.

To Robbe, Sander was just some stranger. 

To Sander, Robbe was his dreams, his nightmares, and everything that happened when the sun was away.

His throat had been dry when his eyes started to get wet. Robbe kissed him before he could see how he was feeling. 

It had started out slow, intimate, like before, and Sander wondered if Robbe was doing it like that to please Sander or because it felt nice for him too to, for a few minutes, have something he couldn't have while being in the closet. A fake boyfriend, someone to call pet names, someone to gently touch, to smile while you kiss them. It subtly changed into something more heated, when Robbe moved on top of him, his hands holding each side of Sander's face. 

Sander didn’t really like that. 

Well, he did, but he couldn’t help thinking about Robbe telling him to stop, a few minutes ago, and now he was on top of him. It was fine, he was just there, not doing anything too sexual. They were still kissing when Robbe crossed a line - he started grinding on Sander who broke the kiss directly, breathing loudly. Robbe took it as an invitation and went extra. “Do you have a condom?” Sander was not really thinking and just acted with his intuition, so he pushed Robbe off of him. 

Maybe he was drunker than he thought he was, because when he opened his eyes, he had heard a loud bang and Robbe was nowhere in sight. “Robbe?” He asked, searching for him. 

Oh. 

Robbe wasn’t on the bed anymore, but on the ground, rubbing his face with his hands. Sander had laughed, he couldn’t help himself. He had pushed him to the ground. 

“Oh, my god, I’m sorry!” He said, in between two laughs.

“If I was that unattractive you could’ve told me!” Robbe answered, laughing too. Robbe stayed on the ground, just laying there, as if it was very comfortable. Sander moved on the bed to look at Robbe who was next to his shoes. 

“I didn’t want you to talk about condoms and stuff.” He told him, once they both stopped laughing. “And I surely didn’t want you to grind on me like a virgin trying to imitate a stripper.” Sander had said, joking around. 

“Hey! You have no idea if I’m a virgin or not.” Robbe backfired, and Sander’s eyebrow lifted up as an answer. Robbe pouted. “Why not? That’s how one night stands are supposed to go. Condoms, badly done grinding.” He shrugged. 

“You’re high. Don’t pull an Emma on me.” 

“You keep reminding me that I’m high but you’re drunk.” Robbe answered. 

“Yeah, but you’re high and drunk. More than me. You asked me not to have sex with you like, five minutes ago. And now you’re going on me like I was Roger Taylor in the 80s.” 

“Roger who?” Robbe said, playing with Sander’s laces.

He face-palmed himself. “Roger Taylor, drummer of Queen. Come on, Robbe!” 

Robbe sat down, his face now at the same level as Sander. “Thank you.” 

A silence. 

“For what?” He asked, unsure. 

“For not going further because I asked you to.” 

Sander breathed out. “Emma does the same thing every two months, it’s like breathing now. I just don’t get why you would tell me no then go all the way to the yes. Fucking mixed signals.” Robbe shrugged. 

Thinking about it, the way they were sitting and looking at each other would’ve looked very pretty behind a camera : Robbe, on the ground, his head resting on the bed, and Sander, on it, laying down, his head next to Robbe. They weren’t looking at each other, Robbe prefered to stare at the ceiling and Sander left his gaze on the door. 

“You’re awfully quiet, you know that?” Sander said, then thought that maybe he’s just not speaking with words. 

Robbe laughed, opened his mouth to answer, but someone came into the room before he could do that. 

“Sander, we’re leaving.” It was Arthur, who seemed way less drunk than everyone he had seen at the party. What was going on? “We need to go or else no one will be able to wake up tomorrow for the bus. We’re leaving in the beginning of the afternoon.” 

“Sure! Give me a few minutes so I can put my shoes on and I’ll join you guys!” Robbe was already holding them in his hands, giving them to Sander. 

When he closed the door, Robbe was still inside, making the bed. He smiled at him before leaving, and Sander felt like this wasn’t an actual goodbye. 

This wasn’t an actual goodbye because they never properly said hello.

*** 

_dm from @zoeloockx: Hi Sander! I don’t know if you remember, but a month ago we met in Brussels! I knew that I had seen your face somewhere else before, turns out I was following you for a long time and you posted a selfie with Lucas a while ago! Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I really like your work, it’s really great :) I hope we’ll see each other at some point in life_

_dm from @zoeloockx: Also, if you think I didn’t recognize that most of your drawings look like Robbe, you’re wrong. Funny how you were able to capture his face so nice without even knowing him!_

***

“Holy fuck!” Sander had said when he read the texts. He was eating with Eliott, Lucas, and Emma, who was just here to steal food from their plates. They all looked at him, asking what was going on. 

“Zoë, the girl we met in Brussels? She dm’ed me and apparently she already followed me even before we met.” He said, showing his phone to the others. They all read their texts. 

“Oh, the Robbe she’s talking about, that’s Jens’ best friend I think!” Emma said, taking a french fry from Lucas’ plate, who hissed at her like a cat. Eliott turned to her. 

“Jens?” He asked what everyone was wondering. 

“Yeah, my boyfriend.” 

Sander paused. Wait, what? He took his phone back and placed it on the table. “You have a boyfriend?” 

Emma was very laid-back, like she usually was. “I thought I told you guys. We met at the party and spent most of it in the bathroom, then he slid in my dms, and honestly I don’t know how he did that but he found me pretty quickly the next morning, and we texted and texted and now we’re having a long distance relationship. We have this thing in which we can both kiss people at parties but not go further. Y’know. Because we live far away and we don’t want to stop our fun. We both have history with drunk kisses.” 

Sander was sure that she never mentioned him, but it was a very Emma thing to think that she told everyone when in reality she had only texted Manon about it. 

“He’s the one I was dreaming about. Remember, I told you that I was dreaming about Yann but it wasn’t Yann in was someone else? Probably the reason why I liked Jens directly, because I kind of knew how he was? Because of my dreams? I don’t really wanna dwell on that, but you get me I hope.” There was a long silence.

“Anyways, Jens is really hot sooooo.” She said, trying to break the silence. They all laughed. 

***

_dm to @zoeloockx: Hi zoë! Of course i remember you! and thank you for the compliments, that goes straight to my heart :)_

_dm to @zoeloockx: Yes it was weird to see someone like robbe in real life after painting him for so long. i’ve never even seen pictures of him before, it was pure luck :)_

_you followed @zoeloockx!_

_dm from @zoeloockx: Oh my that’s so funny! His @ is @sterkerdanijzer if you want to follow him! I showed him your works yesterday btw :)_

Sander’s heart stopped. He saw, and yet didn’t follow him?

_dm from @zoeloockx: I think you guys spent some time together at the party no?_

_dm to @zoeloockx: Yeah we did. did he tell you anything after you showed him the paintings?_

_dm from @zoeloockx: He didn’t say anything in particular!_

  
  


***

Eliott was the one who brought it up. The two of them were in Eliott’s art studio, the taller boy was drawing on a big canvas while Sander was sitting and drinking some tea Lucas had made. Somehow, Lucas really was a trophy wife who cooked and made coffee. “You know, when you kissed Emma, she started having dreams like you did.” 

Sander breathed out. “Yeah, I know. I didn’t really think about it until she talked about Jens last month.” He bit his bottom lip, unsure. 

“Do you think Robbe has these dreams, too, since you kissed him?” Eliott asked, and Sander swallowed wrongly, forcing him to cough for a while. Eliott just looked at him, laughing, and surely not helping him. 

“How do you know?” He said, when he stopped coughing. He thought that no one saw them, and that they were discreet.

“Everyone knows.” He answered. “You guys were so obvious. Only Moyo was dumb enough not to see it, because he was dwelling on the fact that Emma wasn’t interested, but Jens who, fucking hell, was in the bathroom for the entire time, knows about it. Even Daphné understood. Da-phné.” 

Sander placed the tea cup on the ground, then took his head in his hands. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?” Eliott said, sitting next to him. 

“Robbe was in the closet until that!” He had said, his voice loud. “Oh, sorry. I just, fuck, I feel so bad.” 

Eliott took Sander in his arms. “Text Zoë, ask her how it went, or well, she gave you his twitter account? Check up if he’s fine on there.” He rubbed Sander’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, okay? It sucks, so much, that’s right. But it’s not your fault.” 

Sander knew that Eliott was right, so he took his phone. 

_dm to @zoeloockx: So uh did you know what happened at the party_

He quickly went up in the last texts to find Robbe’s twitter. 

  
  


@ _sterkerdanijzer: Life is so weird right now but! I have him :) (pic attached of Robbe and Jens in a cinema)_

_\--_

_@sterkerdanijzer: * I’m still waiting for an apology for what you said_

_@ikkebech answered: woomf?_

_\--_

_@softestluc: do you ever see someone and go like… we were together in another life_

_@sterkerdanijzer answered: :(_

_\--_

_@sterkerdanijzer: 100%_

_@rosandernarry answered: ????_

_\--_

_@pxrfectharold: is it just me or don’t sander’s drawings look like @/sterkerdanijzer???_

_@sterkerdanijzer answered: it is me_

_@pxrfectharold answered: shit i tweeted this as an indirect i thought you wouldn’t see it oops_

_@pxfrectharold: how do i delete my awkward self_

_\--_

_@sterkerdanijzer: since it happened, it’s been downhill but in the right way_

_@Marc_withAMouth answered: since what happened?_

_\--_

“These tweets, that one, that one, and also those two. They seem about me.” Sander said, showing some to Eliott. Before he could even speak, Sander got a notification.

_dm from @zoeloockx: We had an idea of what had happened, then Robbe decided to come out :)_

_dm from @zoeloockx: I actually knew before. I saw gay porn websites on his phone a few years ago, talked about with some of the girls, it wasn’t really a surprise. He took his time to tell us and, yes, maybe the fact that Aaron kept asking why he disappeared during the evening pushed him into saying what had happened, but it’s not your fault._

_dm from @zoeloockx: I’m sure you’re thinking it’s your fault. You didn’t force Robbe to come out of the closet. It was getting small, anyway._

_dm to @zoeloockx: it’s always small_

“What I don’t get is, why hasn’t he texted you? I mean, he’s out now, you guys can have a little something going on between you two. Plus, he’s clearly tweeting about you. Why is he acting like that?” Eliott said. Lucas entered the room. 

“What’s going on?” He asked to his boyfriend and Sander. 

“Robbe is now out and he’s probably into Sander.” Eliott answered. 

“Like, anyone who has eyes, but what’s new.” Lucas said, joking around. Sander rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know why he didn’t text me. He has my twitter, since Zoë showed it to me, and she even said that he didn’t even react to the pictures of my drawings, who are, if I can remind you, always him.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to remind us, we have a big painting of Robbe just above our tv.” Lucas said, sitting in front of them. “We still didn’t pay Sander for that, by the way. It’s bad, it’s his art.” Eliott added, to what Sander brushed him off, “You let me use your studio, it’s good enough.” Eliott was about to complain, but Sander gave him a look that said enough. 

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to text him.” 

“It’s been three months since we saw each other, that’s a long time to wait.” Sander answered, unsure of what Lucas was saying. 

“Oh! He just tweeted,” Eliott said, Sander’s phone in his hands. 

_@sterkerdanijzer: dreaming of you_

“Ah, putain de merde. Lui aussi il est mzi du coup?” _Ah, shit fuck. He’s also weird, then?_ Lucas said, joking around. “I mean, he has dreams? You’re probably breaking parallel universes laws, right now, but that’s kinda cute.” 

“Text him!” Eliott said, giving the phone back to Sander. “Really.” 

Eliott sometimes had something very serious in his eyes, something that said that he had lived things that someone that young shouldn’t have lived. 

“I’ll see.” 

*** 

A few weeks later, he was at the cinema with Emma. They were about to watch some stupid romantic movie, because she really wanted to, and while he didn’t really care, she asked him many times because no one wanted to go with her. He thought it was stupid and she had answered that it was the point, in the end. A stupid distraction to life’s dullness. She was spending more time on her phone than she had when he met her for the first time: he knew that it was probably to text Jens. 

“Jens wants to know how you’re doing.” She said as they sat down. “I literally never talked to Jens in my life, why does he want to know?” Sander answered, amused. 

“Well, he wants to know, that’s all.” 

“Tell him I’m fine, also tell him to tell to Robbe to text me.” He blunty said. 

“That’s a lot of telling in a single sentence. Also, why would Robbe text you?” She asked, taking a fist full of popcorn from Sander’s bucket. 

“Because I want to know if he wants to… talk about the kiss we had?” Sander said, wondering if she did not know what happened between them. 

“Wait, you kissed Robbe? What? Why am I not aware of this?” She answered, now giving him all of his attention. Sander face-palmed himself. 

“Everyone knows about this, Emma, you’re so late. I kissed Robbe and he wasn’t out but now he’s out and I want to know if we can get somewhere from here.” 

“Hm-hm, I’m texting Jens right the fuck now.” She said, then the lights went off, and the movie started. “Put that in your pocket, Emma, it’s starting,” he whispered to her ear, “Right, just a sec!”

***

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: so you wanted me to dm you_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: sander??_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Sorry! i was watching a movie_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: A little birdie told me you came out. congrats! :)_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: thanks :)_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: I won’t bother you because I know that the whole point of us making out was no problems and not seeing each other after_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: I just want to know one thing_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: ?_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: After we kissed, did you dream?_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Of me, mayhaps?_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: ja_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: What did you dream about?_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you and i in a house by the sea_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you were asking where the coffee was or where was the food_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i couldn’t answer, someone was speaking for me with my voice, i couldn’t move_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: zero stars?_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: what the hell_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: how do you know_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i didn’t tell that to anyone_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: I’ve had that dream before, robbe_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: I’ve had dreams of you for years_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Not to sound weird or stalkerish, but yeah_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: did you dream of us in a pool?_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: in a hotel?_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: this is so weird, so when you met me you knew me?_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Yes, i dreamed of all of that and much more_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Did you dream of us in the bed, talking about parallel universes?_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer; Lucas thinks it might be that we were together in another life_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: I saw you tweet about that, don’t lie_

  
  


_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: stalker!!_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i had that dream_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: couldn’t stop thinking about what you said about your thoughts never stopping_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: many thoughts_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: at first i knew it was just the way you acted towards me that made me want to like you, but maybe it was the dreams_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i really thought that my mind wanted to give you affection because you seemed to like me_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: I do._

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you don’t know me, sander_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i’m not the one you dreamed about, that’s someone else_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: and you’re not the one i dreamed about either_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: they don’t exist_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: they’re not us_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: yet_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: maybe i could like you for you and not for those dreams_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: maybe you could actually like me for who i am and not for that other me, too_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: let’s not lie, i was the only one attracted to the other when we met_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you weren’t just attracted, it was something more, right?_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: let’s just pause all of it_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: everything_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: What do you mean?_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you seem great, sander_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you’re a great kisser! and you respected me_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you make great art_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you seem smart_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i’d like to start again_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: with you!_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: forget about all of the dreams you had, everything you think you know about me_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i’ll try to forget everything i know about you_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: he’s not me, i lived different things, he’s not you, you lived different things_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: because we’re more than those dreams_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: we’re real_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: when we met i didn’t care about who you were, i really didn’t_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you were hot and you said you wanted to kiss me, so we did_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: and i didn’t want to fall for you, and i didn’t, thank god, because i was still in the closet_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: and those dreams yes, they make me wanna kiss you more, maybe_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: maybe those dreams made you want to kiss me too, and that’s why you did_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i want dates in which we ride bikes around the city and you make me taste shitty alcohol_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: but i don’t want them to be weird, because we know that there’s something between us_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i just want them to be dates_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i want a new start_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: you get me?_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Yes_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: You, me, not them_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: blank start_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Blank start._

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: But in a way, they’re us, you know that_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i do!_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i just want to know who you are, sander, not who he his_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i hope you want to know me even if i’m not completely him_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i’m probably better in your dreams than in real life_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: sorry!_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Forgetting everything then._

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: It’ll be hard for me, i’ve been dreaming of you since i was a teen_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i don’t want us to start something on a fantasy we shared_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: i want something real, not something dreamed_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Blank start. Yeah. Okay_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: I can do with a blank start_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Let me:_

_dm to @sterkerdanijzer: Sander, trouwens_

_dm from @sterkerdanijzer: robbe :)_

_***_

“So, Robbe and you?” Eliott asked, a few weeks later, “What’s going on? I see you interacting on twitter, sometimes. You’re a thing?”

Sander shrugged. “Not really. We’re texting, we skyped a few times. We’re mostly trying to get to know each other, which is best for us. Flirting, a lot, too. Well, mostly me, because he gets flustered really quickly.” He laughed, then marked a pause. “I haven’t dreamed of him since. It stopped.” He added, “It stopped, it’s so weird. I’ve been living with him for so many years and now that I met him, really, he’s gone from my dreams.” 

Eliott had bit his lip. “Does that make you sad?” 

“No. Because I’ll see him again, in real life this time.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked the first chapter!! as you guys know, kudos or comments make me more than happy 
> 
> come scream with me on twitter! i'm @/thegoldfimch


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